The Nine of Assorted Means of Transportation
by ShizukaRen-Hime
Summary: So, my friends and I got sucked into Lord of the Rings by some screwy Mary Sue and her boundless  evil  powers. Now, we have to stop her from irrevocably altering the plot in her mad quest to marry Legolas. The trick? Don't become a Mary Sue yourself.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: In Which We Awaken With No Clue of What Happened…**

"Wake up. Hurry. Orcs are about."

I groggily tried to open my eyes. Needless to say, it wasn't working out very well. My head was pounding like a drum of war. Gingerly, I moved my hands up to my temples and rubbed a little. While relaxing, it did little to clear my mind.

"What the hell happened?"

Oddly enough, the first thought that came to me when I finally seemed to snap out of my confusion was _where on earth is my wand_? I moved a hand ever so slightly to find it, and sure enough, my pretty black wand was soon clutched in my rather shaky grasp. My next thought was voiced aloud.

"Why am I on my back?"

"You must hurry, foolish girl! We are in grave danger, and I am much too kind, caring, and noble to abandon you to your fate! We must fly! Quickly!"

I figured by now it was time to turn my attention to this person who seemed to be speaking to me. She was standing above me like some sort of conquering queen, milky white skin, hair of flaxen gold, and eyes the color of the bright blue sky and all that crap. But maybe I'm not doing her justice. I can't say that the epithet thing is my strong suit.

"Who are you?"

She smiled…benevolently at me as though trying to ease my possible discomfort. For some odd reason, I felt like she was giving me a don't-be-too-intimidated-by-my-incomparable-beauty look, but I quickly dismissed the thought. I shouldn't assume things. Slowly, she bent down towards me and gave me the Hand of Hope. You know, like when you're holding your hand out to someone cinema-style, that sort of dramatic, here! Take my hand! I'll save you thing. Her expression flashed annoyed for a moment when I hesitated to take it.

"Come, we must flee. Do not scorn my kindness, ugly girl, as it is as deep and bountiful as the sea! We must make haste!"

I took her hand and then realized it seemed to be for show when she didn't actually help in pulling me up. Wow. Why even bother offering to help someone up if you weren't going to go through with it? It was then that a sudden thought came to me.

"Where's Alex?"

The woman was half turned around and totally ignored my question. I threw her a withering glare and then choked. She had pointy ears. What the hell? It was then that I noticed her attire. A long, flowing white dress. That was somehow really clean. Like, perfectly clean. Impressive for someone apparently running circles in a forest. Does she use Tide? Anyway…

"Where's my friend? Answer me, dammit!"

Once again, I was ignored. It was at about this point that I started piecing things together. Elf ears, fantasy type dress, sword. I'm dreaming, clearly. I was about to smack myself in the face to wake myself up for real when there was a sudden whistling noise and something whizzed by me. Somehow, it didn't sound pleasant.

"We've found 'em, we 'ave! 'Ere! 'Ere!"

There was an arrow stuck in the ground. I stared at it for a fraction of a second before, well, for lack of a better phrase, hauling ass out of there. Have I mentioned that running is not my strong suit? Wand clutched firmly in hand, I leapt surprisingly athletically over a tree root and fled from what seemed to be an oncoming mini army of orcs. I was distantly pleased at this, but that brief joy came to an end all too soon when my foot was snagged in a bush and I fell flat on my face.

"Look! There's another one, behind those treesss!"

I knew they weren't talking about me as I scrambled to my feet, ducking my head out of instinct and narrowly missing a wild swing from a black orc blade. A good distance away, I saw Alex looking around, clearly confused. She must have just woken. I panicked as I barely jumped out of the way of another probably would have been fatal blow.

"ALEX! MOVE!"

An orc had alerted others to her presence and proceeded to attack her. _Aw, hell no! No one messes with my big sis whether I'm dreaming or not!_ My mouth set into a thin line, I slipped by a tree with an orc hot on my heels and tackled the offending orc to the ground. Pain exploded in my shoulder and I couldn't help but cry out, as much as I hated doing so. Where the hell was that elf lady with the sword? Seriously?

"WATCH OUT!"

I turned my head to see what Alex was screaming about and then screamed myself because I saw a knife coming down towards what I suspected was to be my throat. The orc who I'd rammed into, held me much too tightly in his grip, ensuring that I would not escape this killing blow. I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could and cringed at the ringing of steel.

The orc behind me squealed like…well, like a stuck pig. My eyes, I'm embarrassed to say, actually _fluttered_ open. In front of me was a golden haired elf, one sword parrying a blow, the other black with orc blood, having just pulled it out of my captor. I stared.

"Glorfindel?"

"NEVER SCARE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN! I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO DIE!"

Just in case you were wondering, that last bit of dialogue _wasn't_ Glorfindel. That was Alex, who had scrambled up off the ground and promptly burst into tears. The blonde elf suddenly shoved me to the floor and killed another orc. And then another. He seemed to…pirouette between trees, cutting down an enemy here, an enemy there. With my guard as…up? I suppose, as it could be, I crawled over to Alex, who was just now understanding that I had almost been attacked by an _orc_. The tears stopped. And then-

"Dude, where _are_ we?"

I chuckled to myself, still a bit, well, bat shit insane from my near death experience.

"We're in Lord of the Rings. In my dream. And fuuuuuuuuuck, my shoulder hurts."

Alex gave me a strange look.

"If your shoulder hurts, doesn't that mean that this _isn't_ a dream?"

My mouth popped open as I stared at her. I continued doing so until she looked a little nervous. I laughed. She proceeded to claw my face with her scary long nails.

"OW, WHAT THE FUCK?"

Glaring, I grabbed at her arm and chomped on her wrist. She swore and shook me off. I pouted angrily and she narrowed her eyes at me. Suddenly, it didn't matter because we were staring at each other in wide-eyed astonishment. Having no clue why she was staring at me, I just pointed at her and freaked out.

"Why is your hair suddenly way darker and longer and are you wearing blue contacts and please tell me those are your fake elf ears from Ren Fest…"

"THIS ISN'T A DREAM! How else could you feel pain? Ughhhhh, I have a headache and I really need some Calpol."

I waited patiently until my words sunk in.

"Wait-WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"

I started laughing as she started touching her face in confusion. When she tugged on her ear and nothing happened, my suspicions were confirmed.

"You're an elf. You're a bloody elf! Dude, that's so freaking cool!"

Okay, so my brains are a bit addled by the pain and shock and whatnot. In essence, she looked the same, her small, rounded nose was the same, her small mouth, her actually kind of elegant eyebrows. She still looked like herself. 'Cept she was kinda luminescent. And oddly tall. Oh shit.

"Please don't tell me I'm a hobbit. Or a dwarf. I'm going to be seriously insecure if I'm not taller than you. I might just die. I mean, I'm already younger and-"

"You're not. I just stood up."

"Oh."

Oddly cheered by that, I let her help me up and then, after a very brief debate, we decided that we should go left, away from all of the, er, action. Well, I decided. In fact, I was just about to take a step in said direction when suddenly someone grabbed me from behind and held a knife to my throat. Judging from the stench, it was an orc.

"MARIE!"

Without thinking, I jabbed my wand backwards into the orc's face. At least, I think it was his face. There was a _sick_ squelching noise and the orc screamed. The knife fell, but I wasn't able to get away because he slammed me into a tree with a hand around my throat, the other clamped over his eye.

"Stupid girl. I'll bleed you like a-"

He never got the chance to say "stuck pig" in true orc fashion because there was an arrow so deeply embedded in his chest, it looked in danger of going through him completely. I know it was really horrible of me, but I couldn't help but breathe a sigh in relief. Alex looked shell shocked. Grimacing, I bent over and grabbed my wand from beneath the orc. It had some sort of goop on it that I'd really rather never think of again. I grinned weakly at Alex.

"So, I totally know how Harry felt when he got his wand back from up the troll's nose."

She chuckled slightly and then, once again, I found myself with a weapon at my throat.

"Speak now, stranger. What is your purpose in Rivendell?"

At least it wasn't an orc. Alex, clearly pissed, stomped over with that _now-you-look-here_ face that precedes finger wagging but stopped when I shot her a look. I was pretty _damn_ sure that the blondie in front of me was Glorfindel. Unfortunately, he had caught Alex's movement and turned his attention to her-his sword still at my neck.

"What is your name, Lady?"

Alex opened her mouth to answer, but I shot her a furious look. She kept silent. I cleared my throat to get the elf's attention. He looked at me with sharp, narrowed eyes. What the hell, were all elves this paranoid? Seriously?

"Her name is Tiriel, and I am Ilmarë."

"And _I_ am Lady Luna Arwen Eowyn Galadriel Moonshine."

That elf girl from before had just popped up out of nowhere. Glorfindel slowly lowered his sword from my neck, and I almost cried in relief. He appraised me carefully, frowning.

"How is it that one of the race of man knows our tongue?"

I gave him that really, really blank stare so common in math classrooms.

"Pardon?"

He glared at me, incredibly suspicious as I was slowly beginning to believe all elves to be. The sword got a little closer to my throat and I grimaced. Alex threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. I couldn't really blame her, we're not really getting anywhere here.

"Lord Glorfindel…"

He nodded, looking a bit surprised. I smiled as sweetly as I could muster.

"Lord Glorfindel, please, it is urgent that we speak to Lord Elrond. We've come far, and-"

He glared at me from his lofty height.

"If you lie, boy, you will be killed without a second thought."

My mouth popped open for a moment, and I nearly decked the stupid elf. What the hell? I'M NOT A BOY! What the fuck gave him that preposterous idea? I am a WOMAN. As in, a member of the superior gender! I even gave him a girl's name! Ilmarë! EEL-MA-RAY. Which, according to that one Lord of the Rings name generator, was a GIRL'S name! It came out of my mouth before I could stop myself:

"I'm not a boy!"

A thin, elegant blonde eyebrow was raised at my explanation.

"Do you claim to be a man, then? You that are not yet fully grown, without so much as a whisker on your chin?"

My eyes widened…a lot.

"TEVENYEL!"

The golden-haired god-I mean, jerk face-narrowed his eyes at me, before backing me up into a tree his amusement diminishing.

"So, you not only speak Sindarin, but Quenya as well?"

I stared at him. What the hell was that all about? All I said was "I hate you." Suddenly, he grabbed at my wrist and started dragging me off. He stopped in front of my newly turned elf best friend and the weird elf chick who had disappeared during the fight.

"Ladies, you appear to be kin. Please allow me to escort you to Lord Elrond."

The blonde elf girl nodded rather…smugly and smiled a dazzling sort of smile. Maybe blinding is the better word. Alex, who I now have to get used to calling Tiriel, frowned.

"Er, yeah, that's cool, but I think you're hurting M-Ilmarë."

I nodded furiously.

"Yeah! Listen here mister, if you so much as sprain my wrist, I'm going to rise from the dead once my mom has killed me for not practicing my violin and unleash my undead wrath on you!"

Glorfindel shot me a look that was somewhere between confusion and anger.

"What is a violin? And it is no fault of mine that your wrist is weak. You should perhaps not be so idle, so that you might grow broader shoulders and strength in your arms."

Oh yeah…we'd established that Alex-I mean Tiriel-and I are trapped in Middle Earth. They don't have violins…I don't think. Well, they might but it would have a different name here. But wow, I didn't know elves spoke English.

"A violin is a type of musical instrument! And-WHY WOULD I WANT TO GROW BROADER SHOULDERS? I'M A FUCKING GIRL, NOT SOME BUTCH BODY BUILDER!"

Judging by his face, Glorfindel didn't understand what I just said. Or at least, not the important part. Language barriers suck, and I have a feeling that asking him if he speaks Spanish won't help. At least, I thought so until he dropped my hand like it was on bloody fire and stepped back. Crap, did I say the wrong thing? Maybe I accidentally said something that sounded like "I am Sauron" in elvish…?

"You are a woman?"

Ah, so the important part did get through to him.

"YES! AND _YOU_ ARE AN _ASSHOLE_!"

It didn't look like he understood my insult, but instead he grabbed my wrist again and pushed me to the ground. I cried out because, well, if you've been reading closely, you'll know I hurt my shoulder saving Al-Tiriel from an orc. Glorfindel whistled loudly, kneeling beside me. I warned Tiriel to stay put with a sharp look, because she looked like she was about to kick some hardcore elvish ass. The blonde chick looked really bored. I heard the rather pleasant sound of horse's hooves approaching. Within a few seconds, there was a grey steed at my side. I mean white. Well, grey in actual horse terms. But I used to ride, and I don't know if everyone would know about stuff like that if they didn't.

"Come Asfaloth. Another requires your aid."

The horse like knelt on the floor and the next thing I knew, there were two hands on my back. No, on my shoulder.

"Ilmarë, is it not? I will now set your shoulder. It will hurt."

I didn't even have enough time to turn around and mutter a few choice words at the blonde man's face, because the two hands on my back suddenly applied A LOT of pressure and I felt my bone snap back into place. Then Glorfindel tried to pull me up onto the horse. And I say _tried_ because he didn't succeed.

"No thank you, my lord. _I would rather walk_."

Glorfindel, clearly annoyed, glared at me, but I matched his expression with my best "boss face" and we reached a stalemate. Knowing, unfortunately, that I wasn't going to win, I decided to just walk on, my hand clutched to my shoulder as I made my way to Tiriel.

"Are you okay?"

I sniffled at my friend's innocent question.

"Peachy. When we get home, you owe me a carton of ice cream."

Tiriel looked taken aback.

"For what?"

I grinned.

"For saving your life. I freaking tackled an orc for you, dude. Cut me some slack."

Just like that, she started laughing, and I joined in, and we basically "made merry" all the way down the valley. The look on Glorfindel's face was hilarious. He looked really annoyed. Feeling more than a tad wicked, I plastered the most innocent expression I could garner on my face and pointed at the blonde elf lady's ankle, having noted the rather obvious looks of adoration and…something else that she had been throwing at Glorfindel every few seconds. Judging from the look of deep discomfort on his face, he had as well.

"Oh no! Lady Luna! You're ankle is hurt!"

She threw me a haughty look.

"It's Lady Luna Arwen Eowyn Galadriel Moonshine to you, peasant."

Barely biting back a nasty retort, I turned to Glorfindel.

"My lord, surely you would not leave an injured lady to her luck in such a manner? After all, it was Lady, er, Moonshine that had her sword out and ready when the orcs attacked, and it was she who attempted to rouse me as I lay unconscious on the ground. Surely such valor cannot be overlooked? Clearly, the lady needs_ your_ assistance."

The scathing look I got in return was worth every figurative penny. I knew that there was really nothing wrong with her foot, and I highly doubted she'd actually even fought, I mean, even GLORFINDEL, the TWICE-BORN BALROG-SLAYER got dirty when fighting. She was as fresh as a spring morning. No worries, though, because the second I mentioned it, she started limping like a horse with three lame legs. He sighed.

"Lady Ilmarë is too kind. How could I have overlooked it? Please, you shall ride my horse. And of course, you mustn't fear. My horse will not let any rider fall that I command him to bear. His pace is light and smooth enough for your comfort, I should think, as well. His name is Asfaloth."

The blonde she-elf ran to his side to "allow" him to assist her in mounting so quickly I thought she'd put on the ring and disappeared. I snuck a smug glance at Glorfindel's pained face. This was going to interesting. Very, very interesting.

In Which We Awaken With No Clue of What Happened/End.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Who is Who, What is THAT, and **_**When**_** is Now…?**

We had been walking down into the valley for a long time when I finally snapped. Okay, so maybe he totally deserved it, but even I felt bad now. Maybe it was just a side effect of the nausea. You see, Lady Luna, or, Loonzie as I…fondly refer to her in my mind, was really giving my idea of punishment a run for its money. Had she merely been all over poor Glorfindel, I might have found it easier to stomach. But this…

Beside me, Tiriel burst into choked giggles. I turned to see what she was looking at and did the same, a bit more successfully disguising my laughter as a fit of coughing. Loonzie wasn't seductively trailing her fingers down his arm as he led the horse. Nope. She wasn't leaning low to give him a view of her cleavage. Definitely not.

"I feel faint…"

Glorfindel looked at her miserably and was then forced to catch her as she fainted and pitched off the horse at a miraculous angle-right into his arms. Even more miraculously, she chose that moment to come to with a delicate fluttering of her eyelashes, her blue eyes wide and innocent as she gazed up at him.

"Lord Glorfindel…?"

Did I say that Tiriel and I were chuckling? Because now we were doubled over, cackling like hyenas at the look on Glorfindel's face. I was laughing so hard, my eyes started to water and I had to blink a few, fat tears away. The golden-haired balrog slayer looked as though he himself might weep, and I took pity on him. Holding my shoulder so that my walking wouldn't upset it as much, I sped up until I was walking alongside him, Tiriel mirroring my action. It was time for me to figure some things out…

"Lord Glorfindel, have you ever slain a balrog?"

Alright, it was a little blunt, but what can I say, it was certainly effective. Anyway, at least he won't have to put up with Loonzie while I question him. He stiffened and turned to me.

"Why would you ask me such a thing, Lady Ilmarë?"

Tiriel looked pretty confused herself, but I was grinning. He really had just given himself away, I mean, no one would freak out at a question like that if they _hadn't_. They'd just laugh it off and be like, um, no, of course not! What do you think I am, super elf?

"For no real reason, sir…You simply look like a mighty warrior."

He relaxed slightly, though still incredibly suspicious, and I smiled wickedly.

"That, and I wasn't quite sure whether you'd been reborn yet. As you were killed slaying the Balrog and brought back by the Valar's grace, I thought it more reasonable to ask whether you'd yet slain the creature than to be so bold to ask if you'd already died."

Bam. I can sound all polite and whatnot if I want. Actually, the only time I think I've bothered thus far is when I'm attempting to infuriate someone…but those are minuscule details not worthy of anyone's attention. Glorfindel's face was a picture of shock, and I was pleased by this to an extent none would completely understand. I mean, come on, an elf is looking shocked. You can't really look totally graceful and dignified and all-knowing if you're caught by surprise, now can you? I winced when I got the sensation of someone shoveling shards of ice into my ears. Wait, my mistake, it's just Glorfindel talking.

"You speak of things you know nothing of."

Ouch. That _was_ cold. I decided, though, to continue my interrogation.

"So…those words you used when talking to the Lady…"

I threw Lady Plagiarism, dear old Loonzie, a pointed look before continuing. What can I say, I hate it when people try to murder me with their eyes.

"…about your horse, Asfaloth, and how he won't let any rider fall that you've commanded him to bear…Have you used them recently? Has there been a _Flight to the Ford_?"

Glorfindel's expression was so shielded, a battalion of Mirkwood archers wouldn't have landed a single hit. I decided to prod a little more, hoping to narrow down the time period I was in. I won't lie-I was kinda hoping I'd be in time to meet the fellowship, but whatever is, is.

"Have you had recent cause to cry _Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth! _in the face of a reluctant rider? Have the nine yet mounted their fell steeds and by Elrond been washed away?"

Glorfindel's expression sharpened, and then he slowly shook his head.

"I know not the answer to the riddle you try me with, but I expect my Lord Elrond will know better than I what to make of you."

I don't claim to know whether or not an elf is being honest by the expression on his face, but I kind of figured when he didn't make an attempt on my life, screaming that I was Sauron's spy, that he really had no idea what I was talking about. I nudged Tiriel discreetly with my elbow and leaned over to whisper, as quietly as I possibly could because of that damn elf hearing, "The first LOTR hasn't happened yet."

She nodded, and Glorfindel shot us a troubled glance. Had he not understood? I thought, by now, that he understood English, seeing as I had been communicating rather effectively for the past chapter or so. It was then that I thought of something a little odd…

"Lord Glorfindel, what language am I speaking?"

It wasn't him who answered. It was Loonzie Plagiarism.

"Elvish, of course. Otherwise how could such a fair, sheltered flower such as myself ever hope to understand the vile gurgling you call speech."

Tiriel narrowed her eyes at the offending elleth and my jaw just dropped.

"Lord Glorfindel, do you understand everything I say? Am I really speaking in Elvish?"

He looked like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not.

"Of course. Because I am a warrior does not mean that I am uneducated. I speak Sindarin and Quenya, and the Common speech of men. The only times I did not understand you were when you slipped into that foreign tongue of yours."

I started.

"What foreign tongue?"

Luna glared at me, FINALLY ditching her whole I'm-a-fragile-elleth-who-is-perfect-in-every-way act.

"ENGLISH, YOU FUCKING MORON! THEY DON'T _SPEAK_ ENGLISH HERE! HOW FUCKING STUPID CAN YOU GET? UGH! I THOUGHT UGLY PEOPLE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SMART! ISN'T THAT THEIR ONE GOOD QUALITY OR WHATEVER?"

I narrowed my eyes at her and was about to show her how smart I was with a few, well worded insults when Tiriel stalked over to her, lifted her hand, and smacked that bitch-I mean, um, her-across the face. Glorfindel was taken aback. As a matter of fact, so was I. I, though, recovered first and promptly fist-bumped Tiriel when she came back over, fuming. Suddenly, my best friend/sister-in-all-but-blood smiled and it was like some light had come on and dazzled my face. Damn. I see what they mean when they say elves glow. Tiriel turned her head towards Glorfindel her eyes flashing like sapphires under the sun.

"I mean you no harm Glorfin-whatever it is. But please, _keep that bitch away from us_, or I'll hit you with my car, back up, and do it again! We clear?"

Glorfindel opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by two new voices.

"_What have we here, dear elder brother?_"

"_I haven't the slightest, little brother. Perhaps Glorfindel would like to enlighten us_?"

I jumped and immediately brightened. I knew exactly who had come-

"ELROHIR! ELLADAN!"

Needless to say, everybody in the immediate vicinity looked taken aback. Kind of. Actually, Tiriel looked confused, since she hadn't actually _read_ good old LOTR, Loonzie was, of course, looking smitten, and Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel were all staring at me like I'd suddenly been transformed into an opera singer…perhaps one about to start belting out _L'amour est un oiseau rebelle_ from Carmen whilst wearing a fruit hat. Admittedly, I'm quite fond of the song, though I don't have any opera training, but I do love to sing. Really, I do. Generally, it's shutting me up that's the problem.

"How do you know our names, lad?"

Actually, I think back home everybody was ready to strangle me. Yeah…At least, here in Middle Earth, people appreciate singing! Maybe no one will care if I sing twenty-four/seven. Oh, shit. I can't really ignore foolish mortals when they're elf-like elves. Because then they wouldn't be foolish _mortals_, yes?

"Um, I'm a huge fan of, um, of…THE WEASLEY TWINS!"

They looked like they were about to skewer me on a nearby tree limb, roast me, and feed me to orcs. I decided to clarify.

"The famous pranksters! As such a dedicated admirer of them and the Marauders, I make it a point to learn about anyone and everyone that could be considered mischievous."

Tiriel looked as though she was in pain at my explanation, whether from trying to keep her laughter in or because she thought the same thing about the skewering, though, I wasn't sure. Well, now they looked even more suspicious and I kind of suddenly realized that I probably shouldn't have had the slightest clue about their childhood games or whatever.

"Elladan…Elrohir…Allow me to introduce the Lady Ilmarë."

Their expressions were sufficiently shocked. At the fact that I was a woman, probably. Wow, I got over the indignation fast. I smiled what I hoped was winningly at them, holding both hands up in the air to show I had no weapons. Well, I was holding my wand, but it's not like it _does_ anything. I mean, it's a Severus Snape replica wand that I bought in Harry Potter land. You know, the one at Universal Studios in Florida? Yeah, I went there on holiday with Tiriel for her birthday once. I was part of her present! It was awesome! Oh yeah…I should be begging for my life right about now, shouldn't I? I mean, they're elves, and I'm not an orc, so I don't think they'd actually kill me, but just in case.

"Look, see? No weapons. Hell, I'm not even an elf and-holy shit. How fucking tall can you get?"

I looked from Glorfindel to Tiriel and back and then made a face.

"No way you two are the same species. She looks like a hobbit standing next to you! Hell, she probably _is_ a hobbit! And I'm probably-"

My hand flew to my chin, feeling quickly for, oh, I don't know, a Russian martyr style beard or at least some stubble. I cried out and glared at Tiriel.

"HOW COULD YOU BETRAY OUR SISTERLY BOND? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME I'M A DWARF! HELL, I can't even be a dwarf right! I'm a freaking dwarf without a beard! I mean, not that I'm REALLY complaining, I just-"

Tiriel looked down at herself.

"Wait, I'm a hobbit?"

Oh, I can tell the difference between Elvish and English now. I mean, it must have been obvious, but then I realized I must be totally fluent. Like I am in Spanish. It's hard to tell the difference when talking to someone else that's fluent. Kind of like how I slip between Spanish and English at will when talking to my mom. Cool.

"No, idiot, you're an elf. And your ugly friend over there is one of the race of men."

I glared at Loonzie, who had spoken softly enough to have been mistaken to be saying something comforting though she spoke in English, which the elves couldn't understand. I, however, understood that double entendre of sorts in the word "race of men." Tiriel looked ready to lunge, her eyes sharpening like a hawk's, giving her this weird unearthly sort of angry look. Um, holy shit, I am seriously happy that she indulges all of my ridiculous notions and never gets mad at me, because, well, it's not so much the look as the intentions behind it. Scary. I looked away for a moment, focused more on Glorfindel's insane height. I was pulled out of this pensive consideration by a loud scuffling noise and when I turned back around it was to see Tiriel lunging towards Loonzie. Elladan and Elrohir jumped up to pull them apart and it was at that point that I noticed something. Tiriel's eyes.

It was true that she had gone through subtle changes when becoming an elf, but her eyes were a drastic change. And it was odd, there was something in those deep blue pools that wasn't there when we had first arrived. A sort of watchfulness, a sort of alert, vigil-keeping wisdom. Like a hunter's eyes, no, a predator's. It looked insanely cool! But…it struck me as something unlike what I had so far seen in other elves. Hmmm, I'll have to look into that. I was carried off on this particular train of speculation until…

"Lady Ilmarë! Can you not halt their madness?"

As soon as I was brought back to my senses, I burst into laughter. Elrohir had tried to subdue Loonzie, and now she was clinging to him…or maybe she'd draped herself onto him. Kind of a mix of both. Her pretty blue eyes or whatever were looking straight into his with that "MY SAVIOUR!" look. Tiriel was like a cat caught by her tail, almost hissing at Elladan and Glorfindel as they attempted to restrain her. I decided to intervene, being that all powerful girl with "lad-hair" as I had now dubbed my short, choppy, dark hair. Psh. Guys WISH they could get hair as soft as mine. It's my only feminine trait, probably, but I'm sure the elves'll put me to shame soon. I mean, they _are_ elves, the masters of being better than everyone else.

"HEY!"

They stopped squabbling and glared at me. Minus Tiriel and Elrohir, because one was my best friend and right hand and the other because he had asked me for help. I looked to Tiriel and asked her, in English, "what happened?"

She shot Loonzie a filthy look.

"That bitch was saying stuff about you and I didn't like it."

Loonzie turned so that Elrohir wouldn't see and glared at her.

"Your hair is fucking horrible, bitch! I won't forget this!"

My eyes narrowed at her soft, scared tone and what it must have sounded like to the elves who didn't understand what she was saying. I stepped between both little groups and put all of the authority I could into my voice.

"Loonzie, shut the fuck up."

She looked at me in outrage, and I realized I'd accidentally called her by her nickname.

"It's Lady Luna Arwen Eowyn Galadriel Moonshine, not L-Loon-LOONZIE!"

I laughed at her indignant sputtering.

"Sorry about that, Lady Plagiarism. Anyway, halt the clapping of your lips, shut up, STFU, as you like it. You will stop being a bitch. Complaining, insulting, trying to seduce unwilling peoples, all of that, has to stop. Reinvent yourself, darling."

She was fuming and cursed at me in Elvish before she realized I'd switched languages and thus forced her to as well. Needless to say the elves around us were looking more than a little shocked. I turned to Tiriel.

"I appreciate what you did, but at the same time, I don't, you know what I mean?"

She didn't say anything, just narrowed her eyes at Loonzie. I rolled my eyes.

"Come, let's not frighten these poor ellyn. I think if you were to go Ninja Assassin on old Loonzie, the dears would go into cardiac arrest. At least wait until we get to Imladris and they decide not to kill us on my account."

Noting her slightly confused face, I said, "Rivendell, until we get to Rivendell. Its elvish name is Imladris." Her mouth popped open in understanding and then she begrudgingly nodded. Cracking a grin, I clapped her on the shoulder and leaned closer in order to whisper in her ear conspiratorially.

"If she starts something once we've been accepted, you have your boss' permission to cut her into little pieces and leave her in the washing machine. Don't worry about all of that starting a second Kinslaying nonsense. I'm sure by the time all the other elves get to know her, they won't mind."

Tiriel smirked. As innocently as I could, knowing full well that they had understood every word I'd said with possible exceptions-"ninja" and "washing machine" among my prime suspects-I turned back to the dark-haired twins and our lovely, golden Glory.

"Shall we adjourn, gentlemen?"

Glorfindel fixed me with that _now-you-look-here_ sort of glare, but it was Elrohir who spoke. Damn, he has amazing grey eyes. Dark grey, like the stone walls of Moria. I wonder how he would take such a comparison…

"Wait, Lord Elrohir, I have something to say before you threaten to beat me into the ground or something."

He raised an eyebrow at that but motioned lazily with his hand for me to continue. I tried as hard as I could to suppress the vicious smirk that was threatening to spoil my fun.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the most marvelous eyes? They're such a deep grey…"

He looked flattered. I smiled to myself, because I was sincere though I intended to poke fun at him so that my compliment wouldn't go to his head. I smiled all the brighter.

"Such a marvelous color! As deep and rich as the stone walls of Moria!"

He blinked, and Elladan, whose eyes were an absolutely enticing blue, if you like that kind of thing, burst into raucous laughter.

"You see, brother? I am not the only one who thinks your countenance dwarven!"

Elrohir clearly had a childish remark at the ready but Glorfindel held up a hand to silence him, striding over to me and grabbing my arm. My eyes bugged out when he pulled it, but I'm pleased to say I made no other indication to my pain than a sharp intake of breath. Regardless of my rather brave front, though, they were elves and had spidey senses. Glorfindel noticed, frowned, and tugged at my neckline, pulling it sideways to reveal my shoulder.

There was the barest little scratch there, but the skin around it looked as though it was turning a dark, sickly green, with bruised looking veins almost protruding from the skin, a black shadow seeming to infect the inconsequential scrape. I glared at what was well on its way to becoming a cliché.

"What the fuck is _that_? Is it like…NO! I CAN'T BE POISONED!"

Glorfindel's frown deepened as he gently touched the scratch whilst I freaked out.

"Such a small wound…And yet, such coloring already…it must be poison indeed. Did the orc swing his sword at you and miss? I cannot fathom how you came by an injury so slight as this."

Needless to say, I wasn't really paying any attention because I was too horrified at the implications of being poisoned. I mean, come on, getting sucked into Lord of the Rings? Getting attacked by orcs outside Rivendell? Next, I'd be sitting in the Council of Elrond, joining the Fellowship! Well, at least I wasn't an elf. It would have been too much for me to bear, being an elf. How much more cliché could the tale possibly get? Maddened by my writer's mind's intense fear and dislike of clichés and Mary Sues, I turned my head and chomped down on my little scratch, intent on sucking out the poison before I became weak, passed out, and awoke in a bed in Rivendell with Lord Elrond hovering above me! I _WILL NOT_ be a Mary Sue! NEVER! I spat what I hoped was the poison onto the ground, crossing my fingers that it wouldn't get into my bloodstream through my mouth.

"Let's go."

The ellyn looked suitably shocked enough with my rational behavior that they did not argue, rather, Lord Glorfindel "helped" Loonzie back onto her horse and we started off again. Elladan and Elrohir were gaping at me, and I sighed, irritated.

"What? Was I supposed to just stand there until I swooned or something? Seriously. If people fucking used their brains, they might try to _do_ something instead of just waiting to pass out. It's pretty much like getting stung by a bee, right?"

There was a slight pause. Then-

"What does 'fucking' mean?"

Who is Who, What is THAT, and When is Now/End.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Road Goes Ever On and On…and Never Seems to END**

We had been walking for a really, _really_ long time. Needless to say, my lazy ass was FAR from pleased. In fact, it was really DIS-pleased. I had a horrible headache, a scratchy, sore throat, and my shoulder was all nasty, burning, yucky, freaking starting to OOZE. Foul mood? I think freaking YES. Tiriel looked at me, making a rather worried face.

"Are you okay? You're looking kind of, um…"

"Like shit?"

She nodded, grinning at my, er, pleasant but accurate word choice.

"Yeah, kinda green, too…"

I sneezed and she whirled around to face me.

"You're not getting sick _again_, are you?"

Did I say I was in a bad mood? Because this reminder of that ridiculous collection of cells that were a few proteins short of a strand of DNA that claimed to call themselves my "immune system" had sufficiently thrown my mood down that one random hole in the ground in Sparta. Glorfindel, nosy bugger that he appears to be, led the horse and, unfortunately, its rider over to us and queried, "Lady Ilmarë, are you ill?"

Loonzie was chatting away about some nonsensical nonsense, and yes I realize that that particular statement is redundant, but if you heard her high, "fair" voice and managed to understand what she was saying, you would take the risk of reiterating just to press the point. I cringed and hissed at Glorfindel.

"Take her away. Please."

There was the slightest flicker of confusion in his face when he asked, "why?" I groaned, my hand clutching my head and angrily shoving a finger in his perfect face.

"Let me put it in terms even you can understand, Lord Glorfindel. Remember fighting the Balrog? Remember the whole 'drums in the deep' thing? Yeah, well _those drums _are currently _in my head_, pounding like there's a fucking Balrog stomping about in there! My throat burns like I just breathed in all that smoke and fire, and my shoulder feels like its been whipped. I am _not_ in the mood to deal with the figurative stampede of goblins that run through my head every time I hear her voice."

As Loonzie chattered on from atop of poor, pitiable Asfaloth, Glorfindel closed his eyes. And then nodded. I smiled and exhaled in astute relief as he led his horse and its awful burden away. Ahhhhhhh, the bliss of Loonzie's silence. Which was blissful for only a few, precious, lingering moments before I coughed a little and she started exclaiming in disgust, "Ew, she's sick! Keep her away! I am much too beautiful and perfect to get sick!" I shot her my most vicious are-you-stupid look.

"Elves don't _get_ sick, dumb ass! Not with colds and shit, at least!"

"How dare you call me by such a vile name! Surely, my lords, you will not stand for this wench insulting one of your own?"

They winced at that, it was rather hilarious, and I decided that I was sleepy. It's probably for the best, anyway, that I leave them to their blabbering, because my headache was getting worse. I found a nice patch of dirt floor with minimal grass. Normally, one would look for a makeshift bed of the opposite nature, but I'm allergic to grass, so…

"Night night…"

I closed my eyes and was fast asleep before I had time to complain about the dirt.

"When is she going to wake up?"

I took in a sharp, painful breath and found my eyes watering at the burning sensation that was currently ravaging my windpipe. And then coughed. Eru, I feel bloody awful. And damn, why am I talking like an elf? Oh yeah, just thought you might like to know, I remember everything that happened and promise not to go through all that wakes up and thinks it's a dream crap. So no worries.

"She shall awaken as soon as her body manages to shake off the illness. I am doing all I can to attend to her, but I cannot guess at when she will waken. Rest assured, though, that I will have someone call for you as soon as she does."

Deciding that I was now coherent enough to kill myself, since I had, no doubt, become a Mary Sue, I decided to skip the confused fluttering of the eyes and snap mine open, willing myself into an upright position because struggling is too cliché.

"No need. I'm up."

Guess who was standing at my bedside, radiating wisdom and lordliness and whatnot. Hold on a sec, I would have told you if you were right or not, but I started coughing, a scratchy, raspy sound that seemed to tear at my throat. Right, now that I can breathe a little, if you guessed the reigning Lord of Imladris, Wielder of Vilya, the greatest of the Three Rings, Owner of the Noble Brow, the greatest of all eyebrows, Mr. Anderson, Arwen's Daddy, and Aragorn's Perpetual Cock-block. OH MY GOD, I TOTALLY DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY THAT! WELL, THINK THAT! Um, well, what's past is past, right?

"Lady Ilmarë, how do you feel?"

I groaned.

"Like I got run over by a truck. Or maybe crushed under a steamroller…wait, you wouldn't get that…um…I feel like I just fought a Balrog. And, by some off chance, lived."

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so…?"

I was about to answer him, in my own way, when I gasped, shot straight up, and started trying to disentangle myself from those pesky bed sheets.

"HOLY HOBBIT FEET! IT'S-"

I bit my tongue to keep from saying his real name. And rolled out onto the floor, my legs trapped in the stupid, soft, warm…ARGH, damn elvish goods, they're too perfect! I kicked said sheets off and coughed and wheezed my way over to a bed on the far side of the room. Well, the side farthest from my cot, which was only slightly off center. Once I could take in a deep, shuddering breath, I pounced.

"BROTHER!"

Needless to say, I screamed so loud, I could have woken the dead. Actually, I probably did, because my perhaps overly enthusiastic shout must have echoed in Mordor, and the dead army that lurks in the mountain was thus definitely within range. Ignoring whatever nonsense Elrond was saying about poor Kevin being in a coma-or, something to that effect at least-I shook his arm and then proceeded to be smacked in the face by his free hand.

"STUPID ARMADILLO!"

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he blinked in confusion.

"Sissy?"

I glared at him.

"You just smacked me in the face and called me an armadillo. You'd _better_ have a rather incredible explanation for this, because I'm SO close to rounding your ears off again."

Yeah, did I mention that my old friend from high school had, like Tiriel, seemingly been turned elf? Damn, was I defective or something? How come everybody else turns elf and I end up still human? With some trepidation, I explained to my friend, in English, that he was now an elf and was trapped in Lord of the Rings with Alex, who was now Tiriel, and I, now known as Ilmarë. For some reason, he seemed to be struggling to believe me. I tried to talk some sense into him, viciously poking his arm to prove my point. My head was spinning, but I ignored it in favor of my mission. Of course, I had also been ignoring Lord Elrond's eyes boring holes in my back, but oh well.

"Lady Ilmarë, would you care to explain how you came to be here and what language you are speaking? Do not worry, your friend, Tiriel, has already spoken with us."

I winced as I saw that famed, single-raised-eyebrow-of-you'd-better-tell-me-now expression on his face. What does he mean, "do not worry?" HELL YES, WORRY! LORD KNOWS WHAT TIRIEL TOLD THEM! Awkwardly, I replied with an, "Er, yes, my lord…"

And thus, I ended up bursting into tears and sobbing at Elrond's feet about how all we (this being Tiriel and I) had been doing was going on a road trip to Harry Potter Land at Universal Studios in Florida, and that we didn't mean to hit Kevin, whose name was Thandraug, as far as Lord Elrond knew, and that it was really his fault because HE was the one wearing that ridiculous camouflage suit that was black and had the yellowish lines that are on the street printed on it, and that Tiriel couldn't be blamed for driving nor I for owning the car, and-

"Lady Ilmarë, please calm down! What is this about a 'car' and who is Harry Potter?"

At that point, I would have started wailing had I not suddenly succumbed to a nasty bout of coughing. Thandraug, as I now presumed to call him, shot me a droll look that clearly said something along the lines of, "wow, even when you get sucked into Middle Earth you manage to catch a cold. Skills." Needless to say-the expression I returned to him was far from pleasant. In fact-I'm quite sure it must have looked rather horrific, seeing as my eyes were red, and my face was flushed (from fever) and it is a known fact that my eyes look terrible when I cry because they are what has been called "Medusa eyes" because of the particular shade of "hazel" that they are. I still say they're brown, but they really do look like crap when I cry. Really.

"I hate you!"

He rolled his eyes.

"No you don't."

I leapt almost nimbly to my feet (except it wasn't really "nimbly" so much as I barely caught myself whilst falling over and it looked like I'd been intentionally graceful and dramatic) and then proceeded to literally have my feet slip out from beneath me and the next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, blinking at the ceiling and the pretty vortex of colors, listening to the soundtrack of…of…GAH! How could I forget the name of one of my favorite movies!

"Lady Ilmarë, you must not push yourself when you are so ill."

I winced at the sternly reprimanding tone. And then leapt up.

"PULP FICTION!"

Lord Elrond looked at me like I was insane. Which, considering I'm IN FREAKING LORD OF THE RINGS AND I FEEL LIKE I'M BECOMING A MARY SUE, I might be. Hmmm…if I'm going to be insane, I want to be insane like Murdock. That's my wish.

"Lady Ilmarë, please sit down. You are in no condition to be up and about-"

I let out a disgusted sigh and flopped back onto my little cot.

"Because I was poisoned? ARGH, that's so CLICHÉ! DAMN IT, I DON'T WANNA BE A-"

I was cut off by another wave of dizziness and some more coughing, but when I at last opened my eyes, I noted that the elven lord in front of me was looking at me with furrowed brows. What is it with all elves and their habit of expressing emotion through their eyebrows?

"Lady Ilmarë, you were not poisoned. You seem, rather, to have received a wound on your shoulder that was infected, and it is this that has made you all ill. You suffer from a very terrible case of human affliction that I have never seen before."

I gaped at him (unattractively).

"You mean-I'm not a Sue? Wait-is Gandalf here?"

The elven lord's brows furrowed even more.

"Gandalf? You are acquainted with Gandalf?"

I made a face as I considered it and decided to go with a very safe, noncommittal answer. (A.K.A. No, not at all.) Or at least, I meant to, but something possessed me to say something else.

"I would say I know very much of him, though he knows very little of me."

Maybe my conscience, (always the one to be suspiciously absent), had decided to act up for the decade? Because it was the truth that I had blurted, albeit a rather mysterious, _actually_ safe and noncommittal version of it. Lord Elrond looked curious but evidently decided to drop the questioning. In favor of my health, perhaps?

"No, he is not here. Last I heard, he was traveling northwest, in the company of a band of dwarves. Does this mean anything to you?"

My mouth popped open. That's not _Lord of the Rings _at all! That's _The Hobbit_! So…

"I'm really not a Sue!"

I could have leapt up and started dancing to some crazy German clubbing music that only I could hear, but decided that the fact that my knees felt weak was enough justification to get me to simply stay put, lying down.

"Hey, um, Eel-mah-rey, where's um, big sister?"

I immediately (even through my fever-induced haze) recognized that he was brilliant enough (I don't know if I was being sarcastic or not there) to not say Alex's true name and nodded abruptly.

"Er, my lord Elrond, where is Lady Tiriel, the elf that was my traveling companion?"

And somehow, this innocent question lead to the most dramatic reunion scene EVER.

"MY BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! OH, SWEETIE, YOU'RE ALIVE!"

In case you were having trouble reconciling yourself with the fact, NO, I was NOT talking to dear Tiriel. I was talking to, as I promptly called out, "My gorgeous, sexy, wonderful, epitome-of-all-that-is-good-in-this-world car!"

My car was a bona-fide 1967 SS396 Chevelle. Still brilliant and beautiful in its mint Ermine White paint, and seemingly still in one piece, though both doors were open. I stumbled, suddenly, clutching a hand to my chest.

"Lady Ilmarë?"

There was someone's hand on my shoulder, but I couldn't breathe. It seemed that everyone else was aware of it too, although I don't see how they could have been, with my breath coming in ragged, short gasps. Ah-damned asthma!

"Lady Ilmarë! What ails you?"

I shoved whoever it was off of me and made my way to my car, all but throwing myself in through the passenger door to grab my ridiculously soft, fuzzy shark backpack. Unzipping it viciously, even as I saw little patches of black appear in front of me, I fumbled for my inhaler and, shaking it with the urgency that my inability to breathe in naturally caused, tossed the cap on the floor and took a puff. Damn, I had better remember that I _haven't_ been magically turned into an elf like every one else apparently has and thus still can't run for shit.

"I'm fine-I'm fine."

My entourage, it seems, were concerned. Thandraug was looking incredulously at my car-or was it at the breathtaking splendor of Rivendell? Nah. It was totally my car. He blinked and then seemingly snapped out of it. A voice called me from…somewhere…

"Er, Ilmarë!"

I glanced up only to see Tiriel jogging in my direction, wearing some form of elven dress, essentially looking like she was an employee of the Renaissance Festival. Man, talk about assimilating fast. Or maybe it was just the fact that she's a sucker for soft fabrics and such a vivid, gorgeous shade of blue. No, it probably _was_ assimilating. After all, some of these elves are pretty damn hot. She looked worried. Dumb-ass.

"I'm fine. My windpipe just kind of closed because I was running. No worries."

The look she gave me was full of disapproval, but I ignored it, because obviously no one knows better than I about the condition of my windpipe, and pocketed my inhaler. Did you know that Slytherin Robes have really deep pockets?

"Damn. I broke the Fourth Wall again, didn't I?"

I got very odd looks from those around me, and then realized that elves probably didn't have to worry about things like the Fourth Wall and stuff like that. Come to think of it, I don't know why _I_ have to worry about that stuff. It's not like I'm some character in some punk-ass Fanfic. _That_ would be ridiculous.

"Lady Ilmarë, perhaps it would be wiser for you to return to the Healing Wing and rest. You too, Thandraug. And if Lady Tiriel would join us, we can discuss your situation further."

I winced at the no nonsense, _you-wouldn't-be-thinking-of-defying-me-would-you?_ facial expression that Elrond was sporting and nodded.

"Okie dokie. Sure. That's absolutely great. Peachy."

And, of course, my colloquial expressions were lost on my audience. Shame, that.

"I mean, yes, my Lord. T'is a wise suggestion indeed. I thank you for your generous consideration."

I nodded my head once, elegantly, inclining it _just so_. I could be gracious when necessary. It was kind of fun, anyway. Kind of. And so, Lord Elrond led us back to the room I had woken up in and we continued to explain our…predicament.

"And-and-and-"

I took a deep breath.

"I know everything that there is to know about Middle Earth and its past, present, and future. More or less. All the important stuff, at least."

And just then, before everyone could react to my outrageously unrealistic and literally UNBELIEVABLE claim, I took a deep breath and began to narrate a brief summary of the beginning of _The Hobbit_, dropping comments about certain elves' personal histories and whatnot in between sentences.

"So Gandalf went to Hobbiton and knocked on Bilbo's door and-Glorfi-Lord Glorfindel, you simply must regale me with tales of Gondolin, for I fear what I have read cannot possibly justice to the beauty of the city as hearing its sights described by one who had lived among them and beheld them with his own eyes-oh, yes, and then, like…"

Honestly, I was just digging myself into a deeper, deeper hole.

"And then they ran into the trolls, actually, Bilbo likes to refer to them in storytelling, later, at least, when he gets back from his little adventure and writes _There and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins_, as 'three monstrous trolls!' and oh! Lord Elrond, I beg you to introduce me to Erestor. Er, Lord Erestor? Either way, I must make his acquaintance! Such a passionate scholar! I would love to converse with him, should he be amenable to the idea!"

Oh, and then they run into goblins in the caves. Quite frankly, I blame-OH! Lord Elrond, have you yet taken in little Strider? I mean Aragon? I mean, Elessar, I guess? And tell me, where is Lady Arwen? For I much desire to speak with her."

I couldn't help but snigger at my blatant Celeborn-mockery.

"I've always admired her-and I've already met your sons! Elladan and Elrohir are lovely, by the way. Very nice people. So is Lord Glorfindel. Oops, I meant Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir. I apologize. Any way, so when they climbed up the mountain and found the door that was only-"

I was startlingly detailed in my narration, although easily driven off topic. I didn't even get to finish telling them about how Bilbo was sent into the mountain alone because Elrond held up a hand to silence me.

"Lady Ilmarë, I believe you. I believe, though that it would be wiser for you to rest, as you are still unwell. I presume, based on the attitudes your companions have taken, that you shall negotiate with me on behalf of your friends and yourself. We shall speak more on the matter shortly. For now, rest."

Rest, my friends, I most certainly did.

The Road Goes Ever On and On…and Never Seems to END/End.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: What the Hell Did He Mean By "Negotiations?"**

At some point, after I slept so long that people started to worry I'd died-I'm serious, those damnable elvish goods are just too perfect! How could I possibly help getting a few (twenty three hours) of rest?-a meeting was assembled to discuss…whatever it was Elrond had previously spoken of. Something about me being in charge when it came to me, Thandraug, and Tiriel. (Which I find hilarious, by the way).

There was a small group of what I figured were the elvish V.I.P. posse, here to judge or witness or whatever. I recognized a few people. Namely Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, a guy I delightedly suspected of being Erestor, Arwen, and Lord Elrond of course. The sort of people I would have imagined to be on The Council of Elrond in fifty years or so. That's it!

"Wait, wait, wait, Aragorn is like, seventy during the time of the fellowship, so that means you HAVE to have adopted him by now, right? Actually, for all I know, he's out hanging with mini-Théoden of Rohan. Right?"

For some reason, everyone looked absolutely, totally confused. I shot a droll look around the room, ignoring the raised eyebrow of Thandraug and the questioning look of Tiriel.

"Elessar? Estel? Come ON, I _know_ you guys know who I'm talking about!"

There was a quiet murmur of assent in which I was proven correct and then I realized everyone had both already been briefed on my "she knows everything so ignore whatever she says that seems suspiciously knowledgeable" thing AND on the fact that Lord Elrond, apparently sitting somewhere behind me, had been about to speak pre-outburst.

My cheeks turned pink. (How _delightfully_ "bashful heroine" of me. Please don't mind the overwhelmingly acerbic presence of sarcasm in that sentence. Really, don't.)

"Er, I apologize."

That must have been the brunt force of any eloquence that my audience expected of me because everyone unanimously decided to simply move on after that.

"Lady Ilmarë, would you introduce yourself and your companions to the assembly?"

Er, right. I nodded and then was silent for an awkwardly long time, wondering what on earth I was going to say. It had fulfilled my quota of brilliance, it had, coming up with elvish names on the spot like that. And quite frankly, I was a little insulted by the current company's expectations of me. Silver-tongued I could be, thank you very much.

Apparently, I took too long mulling over such things because there was an expectant cough from some direction and I thus resorted to innocently asking, "Oh, was I to start now?"

The looks I received in return were…encouraging, to say the least.

"Gathered lords and ladies, honored Chief Counselor and Captain of the Guard, and reigning Lord of Imladris, I present to you, humbly and with the greatest respect, Lady Tiriel of the brave and worthy House of Gryffindor, Lord Thandraug of the wise and witty House of Ravenclaw, and myself, ever your servant and ally, Lady Ilmarë of the most ancient and noble House of Slytherin."

I ended with a flourishing bow that, though not really suiting my gender, resulted in a gorgeously crisp swish of my recently provided cloak. When I straightened up, I flashed the most charmingly sweet, contrite smile I could muster at the assembled public.

And really, by this point, you should have realized that everything I do is the equivalent of karate-chopping a boulder off the side of a cliff. Essentially, catastrophic.

Tiriel and Thandraug's faces were, quite frankly, absolutely priceless. The Houses of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, indeed. Bet they didn't see shit like _that_ coming! Okay, so I didn't see it either, it works, though, doesn't it?

A curious elf decided to ask a question very similar to the one I had just then thought.

"Why is your house 'the most ancient and noble,' while the others are brave or witty? It seems rather…mismatched. Or rather, as if it did not belong with the other two."

I nodded graciously.

"Indeed, milord. The House of Slytherin has been long ostracized by the other three Houses for its belief in upholding the old ways of blood purity. We of Slytherin House are cunning and ambitious, secretive and powerful. The heroes, courageous, brave, those pure souls who go forth unflinchingly to battle for the good of all, they are not of my house, they are of the House of Gryffindor from whence Tiriel hails.

The scholars of the sharpest minds, of wit and of wisdom beyond the average man, the clever ones who hunger for knowledge, they are not of Slytherin, they are of the House of Ravenclaw as Thandraug is. The ones who are determined, loyal, who fear not hard work or thankless toil, who give every effort and who's friendship is the most unreserved, they are not of the house Salazar founded, they are of Hufflepuff, a house which here is without representation.

My house is of an entirely different ilk. Were we any different, though, we would not be worthy of our name. Would you not agree, my lord?"

When I finished, I was nearly breathless, I was so impressed with what was coming out of my mouth. The elf who had asked considered what I had said and nodded slowly.

"By your description, my lady, it does seem a fitting introduction after all."

And the assembly was thus wrapped up. Well, not intentionally. You see, right at that moment, Rivendell was invaded.

"Lord Glorfindel! Lord Glorfindel!"

An out of breath ellon stumbled into the sanctity of the clearing that would witness the fates of Tiriel, Thandraug, Lady Loonzie and I decided.

"Orcs! In the main hall!"

My first thought, I'm a bit perturbed to say, had nothing to do with orcs. Actually, it had nothing to do with _Lord of the Rings_. In fact, it would (not that I could have possibly known it at the time), result in me calling said ellon "Quirrell" for probably the rest of my life.

"Let me guess, you just 'thought we ought to know?'"

I garnered a strange look from the assembly and the dancing glimmer of amusement, brief as it was, in Tiriel's eyes. And then the reality hit.

"Orcs?"

I gripped the wand I would not part with in my hand and tapped my foot slightly to reassure myself of the comforting weight of my knife hidden in my boot. The wand I had kept because of its service to me upon my arrival. The knife had been a birthday present from Thandraug, and I had brought it with me on a whim, thinking that it might well save my life at one of those late night gas station stops during Tiriel and I's road trip.

I was thankful for them now.

Even as Glorfindel stood and raced off to the place the ellon had directed him to, I blinked. Since when had the elvish way of being super polite, etc. etc. been able to directly influence my thoughts? Then again, I reasoned, standing there for a moment while everyone else panicked, if I were to analyze my behavior and mental process I would think that my currently foul mouth and brazen, careless, overly sassy demeanor was a sort of response to the shock of having been literally transported to a fictional world.

"Lady Ilmarë, I believe it would be best for you to stay with the others."

It was one of the elves who had been with Lord Glorfin-dude. I nodded, bobbing my head rather distractedly.

"Sure, sure, anything you say, man."

He shot me a confused look but proceeded to-there's no other word for it-_escort_ me in the most gentlemanly of manners to the place where Tiriel, Thandraug, Loonzie and some other presumably non-fighting peeps were hanging out.

I was about to make some smart comment to Tiriel about her mode of dress-_I_ was wearing my new elf cloak, yes, but with my Slytherin robes, my skinny jeans, my checkered vans, and my oversized "I Served Time in Azkaban" shirt and thus wasn't _assimilating_ or _forgetting where I LITERALLY came from_ or anything like that-when Luna was dragged back by arms clad in black, filthy armor and an absolutely appalling stench.

"Help!"

Of course. The ONLY ORC to slip past the border guard (they weren't actually IN the city, they were just TRYING to get in the city) just HAD to kidnap Loonzie after SOMEHOW, MIRACULOUSLY making it THIS FAR into the fucking city, where she was standing with a bunch of people who CAN'T FIGHT. I had a horrible feeling, though, in the pit of my stomach.

It was something that I had subconsciously noticed already, that hit me full force in that fraction of a second in which I turned around rather wildly to see what had happened to Loonzie. She was, as anyone could have guessed, a bona fide Mary Sue.

Mary Sues generally went hand in hand with painfully, agonizingly cliché plots.

Loonzie's plot, so far, at least, had been ruined by my friends and I. Especially by me.

The addition of the three of us to her story had clearly set it off course. Us traveling here had clearly caused the shift in the time of our arrival (in other words, _not_ arriving right before the Council of Elrond), and _I_ had ruined her opportunity to be poisoned and taken to Rivendell after valiantly fending off orcs by saving Tiriel and getting my shoulder infected.

Needless to say, I was happy to be the obstruction in her little Sue way, but…

"Oh, _fuck_ this."

I drew my wand and my knife in exasperation.

"Let the lunatic go, asshole!"

I have never seen an orc look genuinely amused, but this one most _definitely_ did.

"What do you plan to do with that there little sticker, man-child?"

He pushed Luna away from him and my heart began to race in genuine fear. And anger.

"I'm not a fucking boy! Why does EVERYBODY think that? ARGH!"

My frustrated vocalization turned quickly into a scream when the orc lunged at me with his knife, sending me toppling to the ground, having in my desperation mustered the strength to at least _try_ to push his blade-wielding hand away from my throat.

"I could use a hand, here!"

I was hysteric, actually, and when my arms-trembling from exertion-felt like they were going to give out, the orc stiffened and fell entirely on top of me. Almost instantly, the sound of the sword I had almost missed met my ears and someone kicked the body off of me.

And I saw the most beautiful elleth I had ever seen in my life.

"Lady Arwen…"

She looked at me quite kindly, if a little surprised, and held a hand out to me. It was like the Hand of Hope, except it didn't feel like the Hand of Hope because it was true and sincere and I found myself unworthy of such a gesture.

I accepted her hand, though, and let her help me to my feet, stopping quickly to pick up my wand and my butterfly knife, unlocking the handle and swinging it shut.

"My lady, thank you. I owe you my life."

And I totally did. She shook her head softly before addressing the entire group of non-fighting peeps. Her sword in her hand stained with black orc blood.

"Lord Glorfindel and the guards have driven them back and are hunting those that are left. We had not thought that any would have made it this far into the city."

She glanced back at the orc's body with a nigh unreadable expression.

"I must tell my father. Go to the dining hall. There are guards stationed there to protect those in need of it. Stay safe, my friends."

And then the grave and beautiful elleth bounded off with a sort of grace that I knew I could never achieve. I understood in that moment why she was compared to the famous Luthien of elvish lore. I think, at that moment too, Lady Arwen became one of my heroes.

A few hours later, Rivendell was declared officially orc-free. Because of that one orc, Glorfindel had organized a sort of hunt _inside_ the city as well upon his return from eliminating the remaining threat. And thus my appointment with doom was postponed.

Because Lord Elrond and his councilors had better things to do after a freaking orc attack than decide if they were going to give us the boot or not. Which is sad, because that's basically exactly what they were up to.

Over the course of the next three weeks, while my infection and consequent cold improved greatly, I began to become a bit, er, withdrawn. Hey! Don't give me that look. It's not like I was actively avoiding the company of all other sentient beings in favor of sitting in my room and sleeping. Okay, so maybe I was. But I couldn't help it. I had become so easily tired in those days, and _weary_.

By the time the third week of our time there, I couldn't leave my bed.

"Hey. Hey, Ilmarë? Come on. You've gotta get up, love."

I blinked rather blearily and saw Tiriel's face swimming above me. She seemed filled with some freaky inner light thing. The room itself was dimly lit and I felt like I was floating, down the Anduin, maybe, like Boromir had in his boat in the first book. I opened my mouth to speak and found that I could only whisper.

"I will. Five more minutes. Just…five more minutes."

I closed my eyes again, intending to do so for just a moment, and sighed.

There was a moment of silence and I vaguely felt someone shaking me. Had I been sentient, I would have realized that Tiriel had frozen in terror and was urging me to wake. I didn't feel it. I also didn't hear her sudden, panicked footsteps racing out the door.

"Somebody get Lord Elrond! Please!"

It was with a very troubled expression that Lord Elrond drew his hand away from the rather ashen face of Ilmarë. There was no other explanation for it.

"She is fading…"

Now, Tiriel did not understand enough of _Lord of the Rings_ to understand what that meant, but Thandraug had an unsettling suspicion in the pit of his stomach.

"Fading?"

Elrond looked very carefully at his patient for a moment, his expression shielded as though by the guards trained by his friend, Glorfindel. He stood up.

"I will see what can be done for her. I will bring her medicine to strengthen her. But whether she pulls through this is entirely dependant on her. This is no illness, this is no poison."

Potions were mixed, broth was brought, and Lord Elrond entered her mind and endeavored to find the cause of the maiden's distress.

Somewhere in my dreamscape I wandered. And let me tell you, my dreamscape is a weird place. In fact, in my dream I was at college, and Professor Snape was my math teacher, and the answer to every problem was _three-hundred-and-ninety-four_. Which I utterly don't understand, because while Snape's voice _is_ totally hot when he says that, I _hate_ math.

I _really_ do.

And in my dream, I was rooming with the freaking _Goblin King_. And for some reason, I was _vacuuming. _And the vacuum bag exploded and instead of getting an asthma attack from the dust, I was covered in glitter. I heard an organ playing _the Phantom of the Opera_.

And I sang an aria.

And before I had the opportunity to think "_man, I've been reading that web comic too much lately, as much as I adore good old __Girls Next Door_," I was draped over a couch, lying across from Loki from the _Avengers_ movie, being asked questions by a terrifying figure of what I sincerely hoped was not Sauron-when he wasn't the Eye.

"Such a _pity_…all your _filial piety_ gone to _waste_. And _you_, girl…poor, _frightened_ little girl…what will you do when you _age_ and _wither_, when your life _crumbles away _before your very eyes and your closest ones stand before you, untouched by time, _resenting_ you for _abandoning_ them?"

Even Loki, who had been quietly explaining his feelings of inferiority, his sincere love for his father and mother and brother, the fear of _madness_ he felt when those tinges of color came upon his mind when he was shunned, even Loki turned against me.

"Abandoner."

I cringed. It was a word I had often used jokingly with my friends.

"No, no, I'm not. I would never! I don't have a choice-"

He sneered.

"No? You don't have a _choice_?"

For some reason, for a brief, brief moment, I heard Arwen in my mind.

_I choose a mortal life_.

"Is it not enough, girl, that you have abandoned your family by coming here?"

My eyes were widening in a hysteric sort of terror and I was near asphyxiating.

"I didn't-I didn't-they did too!"

"They were leaving for college anyway. But you…you left a family that needed you."

"It wasn't my choice to come here!"

He was standing above me now, his cruel laughter tumbling over me as he looked down at me with a genuinely evil smirk, from what seemed like a great, great height.

"What would your father say, I wonder, of your cowardice?"

I was hyperventilating.

"Don't talk about my dad!"

"He must weep simply thinking of your cowardice, your selfishness, those cruel, cruel eyes of yours. Your eyes are very cruel, you know. Did you think to escape your reality, to seek your freedom? You have doomed your friends with you."

I was stepping back, and somehow I was aware that behind me was the edge. Of what, I did not know. I only knew that when I stepped over it, there would be no coming back.

"I didn't ask-"

He grinned, leering at me with sharpened teeth.

"It was your heart's fondest wish, was it not? To be free? To die for a cause you believed in? You have doomed your friends, you cruel, cruel girl. You are selfish. For your own desires you condemned your friends to an eternity of suffering, and you, you keep for yourself the gift of mortality. Cast yourself into the deepest hell of despair, little one, for nothing you do can ever atone. Suffer and know that all your pain will never equal that of your loved ones-pain that _you_ inflicted. I can see it in your eyes. The desire to flee. Your escapist fantasies will not grant you reprieve from your guilt. Cruel, _cruel_ girl. You should never have strayed from your place."

I took another panicked step back and realized I was at the foot of that cliff.

"No! No, I didn't doom anyone! It's not my fault! I swear-"

And just as I was about to fall, the nightmare faded and I saw figure in white.

_Peace, dear heart. You suffer needlessly. Turn your mind from these dark thoughts, they are ill-suited to your gentle spirit. Come with me, I will lead you back in to the light. Come._

What the Hell Did He Mean By 'Negotiations'/End.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: This is Just Getting Ridiculous**

I knew, somehow, I just _knew_ that before me was the Lady of Light.

"Galadriel!"

Her golden hair tumbled about her shoulders as she leaned forward, extending a hand to me in a gesture of acceptance, and repeated what she had been saying in my head.

_Come._

I took her hand (and briefly wondered when it was I had fallen) and let her pull me up and into an entirely different place. When I turned to offer her my sincere, profuse thanks, (imagine getting hauled off your ass by the LADY OF LIGHT), she was gone.

I stood in a white room (GOD, the cliché! It burns!) and was alone.

"Not alone, Lady Ilmarë."

I wheeled around to see Lord Elrond.

"Lord Elrond?"

Okay, so that's a bit of a bizarre fabrication, I'll admit. Not the sort of thing I pictured my subconscious to fling at me-Galadriel I could totally see, but Elrond? He wasn't the sort of person I expected to visit me in my dreamscape's blank space. And yet, there he was, looking as radiantly lordly and whatnot as he always did. I decided to just roll with it.

"What had brought you here, my lord?"

I was expecting him to answer my adopted nicety of speech in the same manner, or maybe start dancing around like a raving lunatic (this _was_ a dream, after all), but he didn't.

His brow furrowed.

"Lady Ilmarë, I have seen much of your mind in my search for your spirit…you are greatly troubled by what you think is occurring. You are fading, young one. Fading, as we Eldar might. Your friends are greatly worried for you."

I blinked. That was not what I expected.

"Dude, Elrond, only elves can 'fade.' Come on. I _know_ my subconscious can come up with something more solid than that."

His gaze was very even on my rather fidgety self.

"Return with me, Ilmarë. Your friends await. You must remember to hold hope close to your heart. There are greater powers moving us on this board, fear not that they have forsaken you. It is you, though, that must find within yourself your will. You were brought here, I would think, for a far greater purpose than you would believe. Return with me. Your friends await you."

And I took his hand, somehow strangely compelled, and was led forward once again.

"Don't you EVER scare me like that again, you, you-ARGH! JUST DON'T DO IT AGAIN!"

I was berated for all of about five minutes by a witheringly angry Tiriel, watched by an inscrutably expressionless Thandraug. My friends. We had been through so much together. And now we were all miraculously transported to Middle Earth together. Crazy, huh?

However, I don't respond well to lecturing.

"I don't appreciate to being chastised like a child, Tiriel. Get a hold of yourself before _I_ do."

She glared at me and Thandraug stepped up.

"Can you blame her? You were _fading_. FADING. What is she supposed to do? Tell you to let her know the next time you feel like wasting away because you feel depressed? You need to open up more. What would she have done if you died?"

I sat up, pale and all weak and shit, my expression one of icy calm.

"I don't know as when that happens-and I suggest you get used to the idea, because you're going to see it happen eventually-I certainly hope she has at least matured enough to overcome it. You're both elves. You need to accept that I won't be around forever."

Would you look at that…I appeared to have stunned them into silence.

To be truthful, it needed to be said that the idea of abiding on Middle Earth without me had never actually come to Tiriel at all. I could see it on her face. I could also see, in the way that Thandraug turned his head from us both, that he _had_ realized and had decided not to dwell on it. Not now. We stared at each other in silence for a moment.

As it happened, Tiriel burst into tears and Thandraug walked off with her and Lord Elrond gave me some positively FOUL potion and I slept some more.

So…as I narrate this, I have to slip in the comment that this has got to be the most awkward thing that I've ever done in my life. Why? Because I'm in freaking _therapy_. _Group _therapy. That is apparently unnecessary for Tiriel and Thandraug, at least I would think so, seeing as they _don't have to attend_.

Now, I won't get into the teensy little details and whatnot, nor do I really intend to tell you about, well, anything, but I suppose I'll give you the general gist of it, for the sake of the story and all. (Oh, _come on_. That fourth wall, at this moment, is as dead as dirt, Isildur, and last season's "Valley Violet" fragrance collection for ellith. _Everyone_ knows that it's all about "Rivendell Red," an alluring blend of poppies, tulips, and elanor flowers. Seriously).

We discussed various things at our meetings, which I discreetly named T.A.F. Class. T.A.F. standing for, of course, "TALK ABOUT FEELINGS." One of the things we discussed were my fears. We also-HEY, WHO AUTHORIZED THAT FLASHBACK?

_Lord Elrond looked at me quite kindly from his chair. Now that I've finished laughing, of course. Cut me some slack, though. Lord Elrond did say that he would try to make this as easy as possible for me. So really, it's his fault for agreeing to having everyone introduce themselves, in broken (like smashed by the Hulk broken) English as if they were at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Anyway…What is he saying? Frick!_

"…_discuss with us your fears, tithen min."_

_I really don't want to talk about this. I really don't. _

"_Would it be too unrealistically churlish if I told you that 'I ain't scared of nuthin!' or can we just roll with that and, you know, move on?"_

_Lord Elrond gave me a look that basically said YOU-WILL-BEGIN-TO-BLABBER-ABOUT-YOUR-DARKEST-FEARS-NOW-OR-ELSE and I was about to rather resignedly explain that I was scared of walking by myself at night unarmed in places such as alleys and unlit streets and such when a HUGE-FUCKING-ASS-SPIDER landed on the table RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. _

"_HOLY SHIT!"_

_As the floor was nice and smooth, I wasn't wearing shoes. I actually hadn't realized until I reached down to pull off one of my beloved, beloved Vans and found that it, in all its off-white and black checkered glory, was not there. _

"_FUUUUUUUUUUCK!"_

_I grabbed the nearest thing to me and prepared to squish the fuck out of that spider and paused upon hearing a suddenly horrified gasp. I looked at what I was holding and immediately recoiled further from the table, contritely, if a little wildly, passing the book back to Erestor (who I had finally been introduced to) for its safety. _

"_Keep this safe. Books are sacred."_

_The spider had crawled even close to my seat, and though I was not in it, I squealed and half-sprinted to cower behind Glor-LORD GLORFINDEL._

"_Kill it! Kill it! Please, please, please, please, please kill it so it can't reproduce and terrorize me any further. I feel faint just looking at it. Please, please, please, please, please!"_

_Glorfindel started chuckling until he was literally doubled over, laughing his ass off. I grimaced as the spider started to walk in circles._

"_Come on. You're a fucking Balrog-slayer! You can handle this!"_

_Apparently, laughter was his weakness, because he could hardly keep himself up. Even Elrond was chuckling. The spider started to do something weird on the desk and I shuddered in disgust. And then, in a moment of brilliance, I grabbed the hilt of Glorfindel's sword and-with CONSIDERABLE effort-somehow managed to draw it, raise it over my head, and kind of slammed it on the spider and the table. _

_It splattered all over the place, and everyone had paused and was looking at me in shock. There was a large chunk of wood missing from the table. My arms trembled at the effort of lifting Glorfindel's sword. I exhaled. _

"_Holy shit, what do you make these things out of? Lead?"_

_To be fair, it did occur to me that it was far lighter a heavy blade than it would have been had it not been of elvish make, but I digress. I was still impressed that Glorfindel could-_

Alright! Alright! ENOUGH. All talk of Glorfindel's apparent muscle is hereby banned until further (unlikely) notice. Anyway, we discussed my fears, and then, much to my inestimable chagrin, we discussed my insecurities.

_It was then that I noticed something very strange. Mainly, the fact that I must have looked like a hobbit standing when I had previously cowered behind Glorfindel, because that man-er, ellon-is fucking tall! Now, barring the exception of Thandraug, whom I once had regularly commanded to shrink, I was the tallest of my group. Five feet, seven inches. Like a boss. Okay, so I wasn't the tallest. But I was taller than Tiriel and the Hufflepuff of our group, my friend Lorin. Even if I was only taller than the latter by a quarter of an inch at best. _

_Lord Glorfindel's height was something else. I could no longer bear it. _

"_I'M TALLER THAN YOU, LORD GLORFINDEL!"_

_Discussion rattled to a halt, and I saw Elladan and Elrohir exchange glances. _

"_Lady Ilmarë…are you…well?"_

_No, I bloody was not. _

"_I'm taller than you two as well, my lords. Of course, that much is obvious, as I am taller than Lord Glorfindel, who is in turn taller than both of you."_

_I was the shortest in the room._

Okay, okay! We don't need to go on with that embarrassing episode. Suffice to say, some trouble broke out, as it is apt to do when I'm involved, and somehow, I ended up standing on the (poor, abused) table, and refused to come down so hysterically that everyone literally _forced_ Glorfindel to sit down-something he did with not some bewilderment, much to everyone else's amusement-so that I would come back to ground level.

It was an elvish intervention. And that rolls off the tongue surprisingly well, doesn't it? Anyway, basically, they had me talk about stuff (I'm not going to elaborate any further for fear of another bog-damned flash-)

_It was one of those days on which I was permitted to merely goof around. I was improving, at least, in their eyes I was improving, and I wondered how it was exactly that I had fallen so deeply into the black, deep pit of despair when it was so unlike me. I had brought this up on one of my brief moments of gravity, and when I saw the way Lord Elrond exchanged glances with Erestor-Lord Erestor, whatever-I had to know._

_From what I could understand, someone-if it's not Sauron or Loonzie or some equal force of abominable evil, I'll eat my fancy eraser-had taken considerable offense to my existence on Middle Earth. Basically, someone had deliberately invaded my mind and, for lack of a better analogy, poisoned it against hope, friendship, all good things and whatnot. _

_Hence I fell into a deep depression. _

_Now, at that particular moment in time, we hadn't yet figured out what it was that made it possible for me to fade. In fact, we-a pronoun I'm using very lightly-hadn't even come up with any reputable theories until that day. _

Pause! Since, apparently, this is considered important enough to flashback to, I demand the opportunity to properly introduce the moment that changed my life forever. And I mean that in the most literal of ways. Seriously. What happened, as I was telling them a story of my house, was big. Like, _big_. One of those destiny/fate things, you know? If I were to be entirely truthful, I would say that it was the most _damn awesome thing to ever happen to me in my life_. Although we still haven't figured out exactly what it was, but that's barely relevant.

_It was a day on which I was permitted to speak freely, to tell tales and sing and whatnot. I didn't sing, though, because that's just awkward. Singing is meant to be spontaneous, unless it's pre-rehearsed. This was neither. So instead, I told them a little more about Harry Potter, (it took forever to explain how one was "Sorted" into a house), and magic and whatnot. I was actually into the second book at that point…_

_It was really fortunate that I'd brought all of the books with me. I hadn't gone through the trunk of my car as of yet, but I was quite sure I packed other books as well. _

"_Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, 'Serpensortia!'"_

_I admit to having gotten a little into it, and it was the first time I had attended one of the meetings in my Slytherin robes, complete with wand in pocket, so with __Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets__ open to page 194 in my left hand and my wand in my right, I, from where I had leapt atop the table, had read the line with my wand quickly raised and genuine feeling when I shouted the spell. _

_Imagine my shock when an enraged __**black mamba**__ shot out of the end of my wand and writhed, hissing, on the table in front of me. _

"_Oh my god. Uh, um, DON'T. MOVE."_

_I didn't know, at that point, if snakes even existed in good old LOTR, (they do, apparently), but I didn't think they had BLACK MAMBAS. Which, coincidentally, is one of the most poisonous snakes in the world. Our world. Your world? Whatever. _

"_Um…um, um, um, um, how did Snape get rid of it, how did Snape get rid of it…"_

_I was terrifyingly aware of the snake coiling up, tensing as I skimmed the page._

"_Oh, fuck it, nonverbal spell. Um, um, um…"_

"_Lady Ilmarë, what-"_

"_DON'T MOVE. It's really pissed, and not afraid to strike in self defense. If you move, it might see you as a threat. Fuck, um…"_

_I was struck, as if by some strange otherworldly guidance, with a notion. _

_**Let your words guide your intention until you no longer have need of them.**_

_I can do that. _

"_Let crappy rhyme my spell unmake, that said, be gone, ye conjured snake."_

_And just like that, it was gone. _

This flashback bullshit isn't going to work out. Because really, all it does is make things more difficult to explain after. So, I made up some rhyme off the top of my head and the snake disappeared. Those present were in shock, I was wondering why the hell I never got my owl from Hogwarts when I turned eleven, and then (Eru, it absolutely _kills_ me to admit this), I fainted. Yes, I _fainted_.

Upon waking, my wand was taken from me, (they wanted to see what the hell it was, seeing as wizards don't use wands in _Lord of the Rings_), and our little therapy sessions were moved elsewhere. We had no idea what had happened, although Lord Elrond in all his infinite wisdom did in fact decide I was being truthful when I said I had no idea what happened.

And so, that strange episode was forgotten. Temporarily. But it was still the damn coolest thing I've ever done. It also was, I think, a sign of what might come, because from that night on, I found myself dwelling not on the fact that I had seemingly flung a (poor, innocent) snake out of the end of a fake wand, but on the voice I had heard in my head.

And then, well, and _then_, I got the shock of my life.

_I had been innocently taking a stroll around Rivendell, because, well, who passes up the chance to walk amongst the beauty of Imladris…the architecture, the gardens, the sexy elf lords! What's not to ogle at? Anyway, I had been innocently taking a stroll when I came upon a place that though not shocking in itself, nearly put me into bloody cardiac arrest._

_The training yard._

_Now, there is nothing strange or particularly bemusing about a training yard in an elf city. Nothing at all. In fact, there is something about them that is overwhelmingly ordinary, that blends seamlessly with the rest of the city. That said, it is rather odd, isn't it, that I should stumble and start choking upon setting my gaze upon it?_

_You would have too if the sight you were met with was Tiriel-dear, lazy, lovely Tiriel-drawing back a bow and Thandraug parrying a blow from another elf, both of them not without a surprising show of skill. _

Yeah. It was a shock. I mean, Thandraug taking up the sword didn't surprise me all that much. He would have eventually, I know. But Tiriel already displaying talent for the bow? Blasphemy! I mean, it's not like she was a warden of Lórien or something, and she certainly was no Legolas Greenleaf, but she was hitting the freaking target, and that in itself was an achievement in my mind. And Thandraug seemed to be doing particularly well for a beginner.

I left before they could notice me, wondering where Luna had gone and decided it was time for me to have that long postponed chat with Elrond about our futures.

"Fear not, lady. You and your three companions are welcomed here."

There was a rather blatant lack of enthusiasm in his voice and I decided to at least let him speak honestly when he repeated the statement.

"Two. My two companions. Lady Luna is not to counted among the number that I speak for, my lord. We do not wish to impose on your hospitality, my lord, that you have so graciously offered us. My friends and I are not skilled in any way that would be of great use, as our land is very different, but I assure you we would make every effort to contribute. We have grown to love Imladris dearly, both the beauty of the land and the kindness of your people…"

I trailed off, glancing rather wistfully out the window. Elrond looked at me a little more sincerely when he said, "you are welcome here," again, a bit more affirmatively this time. We sat there in silence for a moment before I blurted out, quite unthinkingly:

"What's going to happen to me?"

Judging from the look on Lord Elrond's face, he didn't get it.

"You shall reside here in Imladris as your elven companions shall, should you so choose. Did you think I would turn you from us because you are not of elven blood?"

I shook my head quickly, hoping I didn't piss him off or anything.

"No, no, I was simply wondering what we were going to do about…the incident."

Yeah, the one where I conjured a huge, pissed off snake on your table and nearly got one of us killed. _That_ incident. Elrond looked ponderously at the ceiling.

"On that matter, judgment, I think, shall be reserved. There is one I would wish to consult with before any action is taken. I do not know by what power the snake appeared, but I would presume it wiser to let it lie for the moment, and deal with it at a later time."

I nodded, quite cheerfully.

"That is indeed a wise course of action, my lord. Out of curiosity, is it Gandalf you wish to consult? Or perhaps Lady Galadriel? They seem to me the two most likely candidates…"

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"They are indeed."

And then, would you believe it, he left. Just like that! But I couldn't help but smile as I walked off in a different direction to find Tiriel and Thandraug, basking in the idyllic forever autumnal beauty of Rivendell. An idea came to me as I thought of Tiriel and Thandraug in the training yard…but first, I needed to find Loonzie. Leaving her unattended for too long, well…

This is Just Getting Ridiculous/End.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Unattended Sues Will Be Wished Away to the Bog of Eternal Stench**

_When I worried about what Loonzie might have gotten up to left by herself with a bunch of sexy male elves_, I thought, staring at the scene before me, _I didn't worry nearly enough_. Not by a long shot.

"Well, if you insist, my Lord. I would be honored to sing for one as noble as you!"

In the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle-I _doubt_ nobility had anything to do with it.

"Wait!"

I didn't make it in time. Loonzie opened her mouth and started to sing a haunting, beautiful melody, easily enrapturing all of us in her spell. Or something like that.

_I still hear your voice_

_When you sleep next to me…_

_I still feel your touch_

_In my dreams…_

_Forgive me my weakness_

_But I, don't kno-ow why…_

_Without you, it's hard_

_To suuurviiiiiiiiiiiiiiive…!_

NO. I absolutely forbid there being any ridiculously long passages of lyrics in _my_ narration. You can hurl me into Middle Earth with a bloody Sue. Fine. You can force flashbacks into the story. Fine. But I _draw the line_ at lyrics written in their own passage like that! It's a waste of page, damn it, and it should be confined to song-fics!

'_Cause every time we touch_

_I get this feeling!_

_And every time we kiss_

_I swear I can fly!_

_Can't you hear my heart beat fast?_

_I want this to laaaast!_

_Need you by my side…_

Hn. I will accept that concession. For now…

When Loonzie was finished, the assembled elves smiled and congratulated her on her performance. Admittedly, they looked a bit perplexed.

"What ellon left you, Lady Luna, so cruelly as to prompt you to write such a song?"

Glorfindel, who had apparently sat down next to me at some point in the performance, blinked and looked as if he had been drawn out of some reverie when I (rather snidely) commented, "What ellon _wouldn't_?"

"Lady Ilmarë?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

He looked at me for a moment and shook his head. Well, I suppose that being sung to by Loonzie would have that sort of horrifyingly numbing effect on a man. I mean, she was making eyes at him _the entire time she sang_. It was actually kind of disturbing. But that's only because sometimes I felt it looked like she was singing to _me_. I was distracted from my apparent companion by this thought for a few minutes. And then turned back to him. He was fast becoming pale, and I was beginning to feel a bit of concern for his health.

"Yo. Glorfin-dude."

Oops.

"I mean, Lord Glorfindel, are you well?"

Obviously not, but that sounded setting-appropriate, didn't it? He glanced at me rather abruptly and nodded.

"Yes. I am well."

I fought the urge to snort.

"You look as if you're hung-over as hell. Actually…"

If the theory I had been toying with in my mind was correct, I was the kryptonite to Loonzie's Sue-powers. I figured that Tiriel and Thandraug were immune, but I had yet to see any evidence of _them_ trolling Lady Luna as viciously as I seemed to be doing. To test this, I started humming under my breath, eventually adding mumbled words to my "spell."

"Happy birthday hmm hmmm, hmm hmm birth-hmmm, hmm hmmmm. Hmm hmm hmmm hmmm hm hm hm, happy hmm hmm, to-"

It frightened me, it did, the look of intensity on his face as he listened to me, and the way he seemingly relaxed and regained some of his colour. So I stopped humming, abruptly, and withdrew from him a little.

It worked.

"And you, Lady Ilmarë? Will you not also sing us a song of your land?"

The almost hysterical giggles that were threatening to escape me died in my throat as a dark-haired elf politely (and perhaps a little pleadingly, it seemed, as Loonzie threatened, oozing with probably false modesty, another song) turned to me in question. I blanched.

"Er, I'd rather get fu-I mean, nay, milord. While I might be so bold as to say that my voice is a decent length from terrible, it is only by virtue of my ability to sing in tune and is otherwise equally far from pleading, mediocre at best. I have very little talent for it, and any song I might sing I should think would be unfitting for the ears of the noble company present."

It came out better than what I _intended_ to say, which would have rather too boldly proclaimed my preference to doing something obscene in a frozen river, so I thought I had done well. But the ellon persisted, resolutely _not_ glancing back at Luna.

"Come now, my lady. You are among friends who are thirsty for the knowing of your culture. Surely you would not think to deny us this small pleasure on account of modesty?"

I resisted the urge to bash my head into the table. Why is it that when you _don't_ want to sing, everyone around you insists that you _do_? Like I've said before, singing is supposed to be spontaneous! Or, perhaps, rehearsed. This was neither! I looked around and saw Loonzie glaring daggers at me, large, wicked, poisoned orcish daggers. Oh…why not?

"Very well then. But I will ask you to remember when I'm finished that I _did _warn you."

I sang from where I stood, screwing my eyes up to the ceiling so that I wouldn't blush. I am not the sort of person who blushes often, and I have no intention of changing that.

It was really hard to pick a song. I contemplated more Cascada for a moment, but discarded the idea and started mentally wracking my brains for folk songs that I knew. I came up with "Molly Malone," "Tam Lin," "The Old Man From Over the Sea" (which wasn't happening because it was probably the equivalent of gangster rap in this time frame) and a Chinese song I learned in elementary school. The first two were promising, and the third perhaps if I was hanging out with a bunch of ellon who were drunk (because I had a feeling that would be the only way anyone would appreciate it, even though it had a rather sad melody) but really, the entire list was a bust.

Joy.

When the idea finally came to me, though, I started to sing. Softly. And let me tell you, a _hell_ of a lot had to happen to "Think of Me" from the Phantom of the Opera to make it suitable for my current situation. Actually, I really just made it a little slower and sadder, but that's a lot when you're doing it on the spot like that.

It was funny, but at one point Elrohir walked in, met my eye and smiled, and suddenly it seemed so much easier and my voice gained strength. And volume, but I suppose those go hand in hand. Elvish witchcraft, I figured.

Now, if you've heard the song, the last part is ridiculously complicated and the last note insane. The last note was beyond me and the last part is nothing without it, so I sang to a high, fading stop and left it there.

Silence reigned.

"Er, well, I _did_ tell you that-"

To my surprise, it was Glorfindel (who was supposedly so lordly and gentlemanly and whatnot) who interrupted me.

"I may have not the ear of Lindir for such things, Lady Ilmarë, but it seems to me you think too little of a talent Eru has certainly blessed you with. Have you not considered learning from a master? Your song was pleasing, and with lessons I believe you have much potential."

He was suddenly smacked over the head, yes, _smacked over the head_ by an ellon I had never seen before, one with laughter dancing in his eyes and a mock-serious furrow to his brow.

"Do not take my name in vain, Lord Glorfindel. And to say she has only much potential! T'is true you have no ear for such things. Lady Ilmarë has _great_ potential, perhaps not a strong voice, but a very gentle and very pleasing one. You would profit greatly from lessons, should you be amenable to the idea of taking them. I would be very pleased to take you as my student, if you so desired. If not, at least consider teaching me a few of the great lays of your world. I am very interested to learn of them."

Well…shucks. (I was actually thinking another word that rhymed with that, but my recent use of profanity has been obscene-no pun intended). My face was scarlet.

"I…I would be honored to learn from you, milord, though I stand by what I said about having very little talent for it. And I would be _most_ pleased to share songs from my world with you."

He grinned.

"My, you do know how to make an ellon blush, Lady Ilmarë."

I laughed despite myself.

"I might advise you, my lord, to save that statement until you have heard even one of the more mild of my land's songs."

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, mirth dancing about in his eyes.

"I have a feeling that these songs of yours do not make one blush from flattery, Lady Ilmarë, and I must say, I am doubly, nay, _triply_ intrigued by them now as I was ere you said that."

It was in that moment that I fell in love. I mean, come _on_! It's _Lindir_. He's funny, the elvish equivalent of a rock star, _and_ had just expressed interest in learning (presumably) more lewd songs. _Great_ interest, you might say, if you'd have seen his face.

It was sudden, and I started choking in my seat, but right as I gazed upon his fair elvish face, the song "The Bad Touch" by the Bloodhound Gang came right into my head.

"Lady Ilmarë, what ails you?"

I didn't know how to say that what ailed me was a certain "Texas drought" so I shrugged it off and coughed rather noisily into my sleeve.

"Perhaps one day I shall explain the manner of my ailment to you. For now, we can refer to it as 'The Bad Touch.'"

He raised an eyebrow rather cheekily at that but (thankfully) left it there.

And so it was that I started taking singing lessons with Lindir. Actually, I had the honor of taking lessons with Erestor as well, something which was like a dream of mine.

"Erestor, will you tell me _Quenta Silmarillon_ today?"

He was taken aback.

"I can, my lady, but I am surprised. What prompted you thus?"

I thought for a moment.

"Well…I've read the book and…you have such a nice voice and I want to hear all about the Two Trees of Valinor and the Silmarils! And Túrin and Beren and Lúthien! And Feänor most of all!"

My enthusiasm gave him pause.

"How is it that you know of these tales?" He asked, seemingly intrigued.

"I've read a book that holds very brief accounts of all that went on. It's one of my favorites. So please, pretty please, will you tell me about Feänor?"

An eyebrow was raised as an amused, if studious smile stole across his face.

"Is Feänor the legend of old that captures most your mind, Lady Ilmarë?"

I didn't flinch at his teasing tone or swoon as an elleth might have and grinned.

"Let there be no doubt of that, dear Lord Erestor. T'is Feänor indeed that I love best."

"An interesting choice, Lady Ilmarë. Most elleth favor Gil-Galad Ereinion, of whom there was no like, and yet you choose curséd Feänor, whom most pity for his arrogance."

I was taken by surprise by Glorfindel's rather sudden appearance. Erestor wasn't, but then, he was facing me, and thus the door behind me. Why are elves so damn sneaky? I mean, seriously, they all have a Sneak skill above 90. For sure. But _no way_ was I going to let him get by with questioning my choice of fan girl affection.

"And if I said it was his arrogance that draws me to him? Power draws me. Not strength or wealth or influence, but rather a power in one's being, the sort of aura that radiates from every pore and overwhelms. Of mighty Feänor none can say that he did not have that power. Even his name tells of the fire that burned within him."

I thought for a moment.

"And his son, Maedhros too I love. What was it that was said of him? Ah, yes. 'For since his torment upon Thangorodrim his spirit burned like a white fire within, and he was as one that returns from the dead.' Yes. For Feänor and his son, I have great love."

Glorfindel stood for a moment, regarding me carefully.

"A discerning mind, Lady Ilmarë, have you been blessed with. Perhaps, with Erestor's blessing, I might intrude upon you both for a little longer?"

My teacher nodded, looking rather exasperated.

"Very well. But you're to behave yourself, do you hear me? No running about like an elfling, interrupting my lessons. Lady Ilmarë is a most diligent student, and I should hate for a brute such as yourself to affect her studies negatively with your impatience."

Glorfindel grinned.

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing. But a brute, Erestor? How unkind. Preferring to enjoy the glories of nature rather than sit about with dusty tomes all day hardly makes one a brute."

I sniggered, looking back and forth at Glorfindel's cherubic (yeah, right) grin and the twitch at the corner of Erestor's mouth.

"I shall say no more. Now, on the matter of _Quenta Silmarillon_, I had not thought to begin it so soon into our curriculum, but-"

I put on my best puppy-dog face and looked ponderously at Glorfindel.

"With Lord Glorfindel's permission, Lord Erestor, could we perhaps discuss not the story of the Silmarils proper, but perhaps…"

I must have looked either ridiculous or absolutely _adorable_ because both men were looking distinctively…uncomfortable, maybe, and were toying with their tunics and clearing their throats and eventually plain averting their eyes.

I probably looked ridiculous, but if it worked, it was worth it.

"Perhaps Lord Glorfindel would be amenable to the idea of…enriching your accounts with his own knowledge of certain events? That is, if it does not cause him more grief than necessary. It is a bold request, I know, and one I am hardly justified in the making of, but would that…"

I blinked, seeing Lord Glorfindel stand up. I mean, Glorfindel. Gah, my speaking habits are rubbing off into my thoughts. But my shoulders slumped a little, because I figured I was being outright and totally rejected. Damn. I didn't mean to offend him. Um-

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Ilmarë, to recount to you what tales of valor I witnessed, and any other knowledge which you might desire of me, if Lord Erestor is equally amenable."

Erestor didn't look surprised in the least but looked rather pleased and nodded.

"I would indeed be amenable. Where, then, shall we begin…?"

"The Fifth Battle!" I blurted out, clapping my hands over my mouth immediately in, well, embarrassment. I mean, seriously. Both ellon looked to me in surprise and I colored.

"If you please, my lords. I…I merely thought of how little truly is said of it and the valor of Húrin and his brother, barring their last words to Turgon, and as Glorfindel was one of Turgon's captains, I thought perhaps…"

Seeing the look on their faces, I suddenly remembered my self.

"I mean, Lord Huor, Lord Húrin, Lord Turgon, and Lord Glorfindel. I apologize."

Glorfindel shook his head as if in wonder and then the two began to teach me the lore of their world. Erestor explained things in a very textbook-like manner, the same manner in which I learned from him during normal lessons, and much stuck in my mind, and Glorfindel described it as if he was _there_, so much so that I could see it myself in my mind's eye, the bright mail of the hosts of Gondolin, the singing of swords, the trampling of the orcs on the ground…it was amazing. A legend come to life.

"Lord Erestor-Oh. Lord Glorfindel. Lady Ilmarë. Forgive me, Lord Erestor. Your lessons are usually in the morning. Lord Elrond had sent me to bid Lord Erestor come to supper."

Erestor looked a little sheepishly at us even as Glorfindel cracked a grin, my dear teacher reddened and said, quite obtusely, "You may tell Lord Elrond that I am perfectly capable of seeing myself to dinner, thank you. I'll be right along."

The elleth looked a little embarrassed and nodded.

"Yes, my lord. Excuse me."

She left and Glorfindel looked slyly at Erestor, and I could sense this was fuel for a previously established teasing campaign.

"So Lord Elrond feels the need to remind you to come to supper? My friend, can it be you've missed it before, in favor of your dearly beloved books? Surely, the Chief Counselor of Imladris does not need his lord to mind him like a child who neglects his well-being in favor of his dearest amusement? That would be a _terrible_ shame!"

"Yes, yes," Erestor commented dryly, shutting the book he was holding and filing it away with the others he had out on the desk from our lesson. "Laugh while you can, my friend. I shall remember it when Lord Elrond has to send someone to find you when you've fallen asleep in some tree with an apple in your hand and neglect attending your duties."

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes at him to say something, but was stopped when I started laughing. Like, _cracking up _laughing. Erestor took advantage of my interruption and quite gallantly (it surprised me, considering his rather terse nature) offered me his arm.

"May I have the pleasure of escorting you this evening, Lady Ilmarë?"

I graciously accepted and gave him my hand.

"You may."

And we ignored Glorfindel mimicking us good-naturedly and went to dinner, laughing as the door swung shut behind us and almost hit the irritable, ridiculously tall ellon in the face. And we ignored the looks we got on entering the dining hall and had a wonderful time. And then, I felt as if some remnant of a shadow had passed from my face, at ease at last in the absence of Tiriel and Thandraug. But we'll get to _that_ later.

Unattended Sues Will Be Wished Away to the Bog of Eternal Stench/End.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: In Which We Learn Many Trivial Things**

Now, Erestor and Glorfindel were simply wonderful and all, but that did not mean, in _any way_, that I had forgotten my friends. But, since they weren't around, they were really existing solely in my memory. Let me explain:

Tiriel had shown great interest in learning how to use a bow. And she turned out to be good at it. Once I was well out of the danger zone after my nearly-faded-out-of-existence episode, she had opted to pursue archery as a viable career option. Meaning, she had agreed to accompany Elladan to the reaches of Imladris in order to train (in the safety of the company of the guard at their littler guardhouse) her skill further and refine her talent. I was proud of her. I really was. Although, if I were to be honest, it _did_ kind of suck that she had elven eyesight and (more importantly and more central to archery) elvish arm strength.

I have _zero_ arm strength.

But anyway, it's not like I begrudge her that, or anything. Mostly. _Anyway_, so she went on patrol with Elladan. And Elrohir, I guess, but Elladan was her mentor, so nobody bothered saying she went with his brother, too. But then, it might be implied? Since Elladan and Elrohir go everywhere together? Well, she went to do that and was presumably having a great time doing it. Point was, she ditched me in favor of becoming a bossly archer. Understandable.

Thandraug had also left. Now, he left not with a teacher to a guardhouse, but with a group of Rangers of the North, who had agreed to teach him their ways. So only Janshin knows when he'll be back, you know? It kind of sucks, because I'm all alone here, and you'd think they'd have a bit of consideration, considering _I was going to die_ eventually and they weren't.

If by the time they come back I have grey hairs or wrinkles or something, I'll throttle them both. Make _absolutely _no mistake of it.

"Lady Ilmarë?"

"Yes?"

Erestor looked at me rather reprovingly.

"You're not attending to your studies as you normally do today. Is something troubling you?"

I sighed, straightening up in my seat.

"I apologize, Lord Erestor. I…I have been preoccupied of late with thoughts of my friends. Forgive me. I shan't allow it to interfere with my studies any longer."

Though I was ready to continue, he closed the book.

"I have often wondered…Well, lady, would you care to share your troubles with me?"

I cracked a grin.

"Well, since you asked so nicely…I don't know…It's just that, well, they're going to live forever. They're elves now. I'm not. And, well, I don't know how long I'll be here with them. They leave, thinking they've got decades left to screw around while I'm still here, but they don't. And I wish I could spend more time with them, but…"

I shrugged, and Erestor sat forward in his chair.

"Lady Ilmarë, you mustn't think that way. You have many years left to enjoy with Lady Tiriel and Lord Thandraug."

I shook my head, reaching into my pocket and withdrawing my inhaler. I slid it across our table so that he could examine it, which he did, confused.

"What is this, Lady Ilmarë?"

I looked rather morosely at him.

"It's called an inhaler. It's medicine for a medical condition called asthma."

He pulled the little lid off it and peered into it. (I was a little tempted to lean forward and press it so that it would squirt in his face).

"Asthma?"

I nodded, trying not to laugh at the puzzlement on his face.

"Yes. I have very bad asthma. Or rather, I have very easily triggered asthma. Even laughter can trigger an attack. But that thing I've handed you, it stops the attacks by forcing my windpipe to open so I can breathe."

He figured out that pushing the canister down expels a puff of inhalation crap. He spluttered, waving it away and, as if he were a monkey startled by a toy horn, returning to it despite the fright he had gotten. It was _hilarious_.

"But why would such a…device not _lessen_ your worries? Surely it should set your mind at ease."

"Because it has an expiration date. Not to mention, it only holds so many individual dosages, and I'm supposed to take two every four hours when necessary. It'll probably run out before it expires at the rate I've needed it, since all the plants around here have been giving me allergies and all that. But one day, and Tiriel and Thandraug haven't considered this, I don't think, I might get an attack and I won't have any medicine left."

His hands froze on the inhaler.

"What is the…'expiration date' of this device?"

I tossed him the little cardboard box it belonged in.

"Eight months from now, technically. But it's good for another three after that, in a pinch. Maybe more. Do you see what I mean?"

He handed it back to me.

"You don't expect to last much longer than a year here."

"I have no illusions." I admitted, taking it.

There was silence between us for a moment, and then he started getting technical and leaned forward, clasping his hands together gravely on the table.

"Have you explained this to Lord Elrond? He may, perhaps, be able to devise an alternative treatment for your illness, if he cannot recreate the mist of this device exactly. You must tell him. In fact, we shall return to the origins of the Quendi later, perhaps, this evening if you do not have your lesson with Lindir. I will escort you to him now."

He stood, and I reluctantly copied him.

"Well-thank you. But please, Lord Erestor, aside from Lord Elrond, don't tell anyone."

When he looked at me, I got a sudden understanding of the age and wisdom of the Eldar, because he looked at me with something unlike pity, but equally sad.

He assented.

"Lady Ilmarë!"

I spun around, surprised, to see who it was that was calling me and stifled a scream as an arrow whizzed past my shoulder and skewered something behind me with a sickening _thunk. _Dazed, I stared at Elrohir, who was lowering his bow, and then turned very slowly to see an orc with its arms held up as if to grab something. (Presumably, _me_). I stumbled back before I could process the fact that it wasn't moving. Which was stupid of me, because how could a dead-_dead_, not zombie-orc move if it was fixed to a tree by a long-shafted arrow?

I thought so.

"Lady Ilmarë, you are unharmed?"

Shaking my head of my stupidity, I nodded, moving away from the body and closer to the now clearly visible group of Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel.

"I'm fine. How did this thing get so close to the city?"

Elrohir, who had _saved my life_, laughed.

"It didn't. You have walked a very long way from Imladris, lady, perhaps unknowingly. You have wandered past our borders, even."

"I have?" I asked, blinking rather stupidly.

Glorfindel scowled, and somehow I got the feeling he was worried for me. Awwwwww.

"Yes, Lady Ilmarë, you have. I cannot imagine that you could wander so far in what time has passed since breakfast. Would you care to enlighten us on how you came to be here?"

I stared rather blankly at him, considering it. I had gone with Erestor to Elrond, who had listened to my explanation with a grave solemnity that actually was a great comfort to me. But still, I was too much dwelling on such thoughts and had decided to go…

"I thought to walk among the trees after my lesson with Erestor. I was…disquieted, you might say, and the thought of fresh air was very amenable to me. Now that I think about it, I fell asleep in a tree for some time. I was starving when I woke up, so I ate some of the riper apples within my reach and tried to head back. But I guess I kind of forgot about heading back…"

Elladan exchanged a wary glance with Glorfindel while Elrohir asked Ilmarë if the apples were good. What she said made sense, perhaps. It was possible, certainly, but unnerving. A warden had spotted her first, wandering like a spirit possessed, and had notified the sons of Elrond, who were reviewing the patrols with the Captain of the Guard.

"Well…not really. They were kind of bitter. I don't suppose you have something to eat, Lord Elrohir? Because I think I'm nearly hungry enough to eat an…a warg."

I thought the expression "hungry enough to eat an orc" was in bad taste, considering the corpse (whose arms were still up in the air) behind me. Doesn't change the fact that my correction sounded lame, but c'est la vie.

"Ah, Lady Ilmarë, I do hope that though you may think my countenance dwarven, you do not think my manners as such! No warg shall you eat upon my watch. For though our fare may be plain, well-stocked is our guardhouse, and perhaps there you will see someone dear to you."

Tiriel!

"I graciously accept, Lord Elrohir! But I stand by what I have said in admiration of your eyes, which are surely as lovely as the rich walls of Moria, and filled with equal depth!"

Elladan couldn't take it any more and started laughing.

"Like a dwarf she thinks you, brother! And she said nothing of your manners at all!"

Rather than let Elrohir suffer such abuse on his own, I innocently peered up at Elladan and said, "I don't see what's funny about my statement. Your eyes are of a color more easily appreciated by a dwarf than any other, so similar do they strike me to the smoke of the forges mingling with the mist over the Blue Mountains, or perhaps a sapphire yet uncut."

He stopped laughing and blinked at me, even as Elrohir pointed at him, guffawing. Glorfindel tried to hide a subtle smirk, but I caught it and decided to go after him as well.

"And Lord Glorfindel too, has eyes of _dwarven beauty _equal to the two of yours. When his eyes blaze in anger or any other passion, so clear is their color, so sharp, the stormy grey brings to mind the flash of precious mithril in the rock."

And with a smile that I _swear_ wasn't meant to be cheeky at all, I walked up to Elrohir (who was probably the most amenable to my presence of the three) and asked, "So, which way is your guardhouse, Lord Elrohir?"

Sniggering at the expense of his lordly companions, he took my arm in his own and graciously said, "This way, my lady. I shall escort you there immediately."

"ILMARË!"

"TIRIEL!"

My dear, dear friend had really grown into her elven nature. She was dressed in the tunic, breeches, and boots of the other wardens, and her form was more willow-like than I remembered it. Her eyes were sharp and lovely, and I thought, damn, being an elf suits her.

She had a quiver over her shoulder.

"Dude, what's up?" She cried, nearly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

I grinned.

"Not much. Been chilling. Becoming an intellectual badass. Found out my voice counters Loonzie's siren spell. That sort of thing. Oh! And I got attacked by an orc today!"

"Really?"

I nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! It tried to grab me like a zombie, but I didn't notice. I guess it was standing downwind or something 'cuz I didn't notice it."

"Huh. It must have been, because I can smell them ages away! They smell like shit! Though, I only have seen two the whole time I've been out here. What happened to it?"

I was acting it out now, and didn't notice the elves around us _staring_.

"Someone called me, and I was like 'huh?' so I turned around and then suddenly _VOOSH_! An arrow flew past my head and I was like 'HOLY FRICK!' and then I looked behind me and this orc was stuck to a tree and it was dead."

Tiriel nodded.

"_Awesome_."

I cracked a grin.

"Definitely. Actually, it was kind of scary, 'cuz orcs are pretty gruesome, but El-Lord Elrohir has some crazy mad skills! It just went _thunk_! And it was over. Like a _boss_."

She started jumping up and down then, and squealed something unintelligible and started dragging me out of the building.

"You've got to see me shoot this bow. It's _amazing_!"

I smiled and let her lead me to the practice range, where she proceeded to reveal skill that was, quite frankly, _ridiculous_. After that (because I was really about to faint from how fiercely hungry I was), we returned to the guardhouse where I shoveled down rations and was given a nice little bed to sleep on. All because I'm a girl. (Which, fortunately, you could tell when I was wearing my own tunic and breeches due to their snug fit).

Apparently, getting lost in the woods and walking from the city to the fences was considered, for an elleth (and me, obviously), a hardship. So I was treated like I'd been through a lot and I got Glorfy's bed! Tiriel had her own cot like everyone else because she was a student and thus had to be treated like a warden. Let me tell you, I slept like a baby. Although, when I actually found out it was Glorfy's bed, I felt really awkward. But that wasn't until the morning after, so slept fine in my ignorance and it was okay. Kind of.

Elladan (who is ridiculously awesome) told Tiriel that she might as well come with us when he, Elrohir, and Glorfindel escorted me home. Apparently, this had been the last stop on their little tour, and Elladan and Elrohir were going to stop at home before they went out on their own scouting excursion, during which time Tiriel would continue learning at the guardhouse from an elf named Thalion. Which she was very excited for. She was really keen on the whole scouting-archery thing, and apparently she was displaying a lot of talent. For the latter. Her scouting was pretty bad. Like, bumbling drunkard bad. Which is terrible, because she's an _elf_. They're _supposed_ to be light of foot and sneaky as hell.

Anyway, I spent the night there at the guardhouse and the next day we made the walk back, all four of us together, and it was pretty fun. After all, Glorfindel had been fifty percent of my happiness while Tiriel was away, the other fifty percent being my beloved teacher, Erestor. And Elladan and Elrohir were so easy to get along with! And hilarious!

But yes, we made it back in time for dinner, which was lovely, although Lord Erestor gave me a _hell_ of a telling to for missing my morning lesson. Which sucked. But Glorfy explained to him what had happened, and-actually, I thought he looked rather _concerned_. But it must have been my imagination, because it's not like I was sleep-walking, so what could possibly be the problem?

Anyway, with Tiriel's return I was at last able to reveal the secret I had held close to my heart since the first of my late-night walks.

"Tiriel, they have a _swimming pool _here! And it's _heated_!"

"Really?" She asked, intrigued. "Let's go!"

I grinned, tossing her the swimsuit she'd packed in her bag for Florida, which I had dug out in anticipation of the pool. She scrambled to her feet and skipped off to change, as I did, going to my room and unearthing my own swimming costume and slipping it on.

I met her in the hallway, where she stood with her Pokémon towel wrapped around her.

"So where is it?"

I was beaming as I slung my Irn Bru towel over my shoulder and hooked my arm with hers, as if we were "off to see the wizard" and led her to my greatest discovery. Regrettably, it was a bit of a walk…but when we were close, I was so excited, I all but leapt into action and bounded towards the water.

"It's just here, Tiriel! It's so _big_! Hahahahaha, I'm going to somersault until I get water up my nose! And then I'll do it again! And-"

I froze, stumbling upon my beloved swimming pool. Or rather, my eyes were met by a truly terrifying sight that caused me to scrape to what would have been, on different ground, a screeching halt. Well, I tried to stop, but the stone beneath my feet was wet and I slipped and was violently thrown into the pool.

Sputtering, I resurfaced. And mourned the loss of my poor towel, which was lost and useless to me somewhere on the floor of the treacherous pool. Scrambling for the edge, I pulled myself out of the water, shielding my eyes from the terrible sight that threatened them, scooting away from the edge until I could lie down for a minute and _breathe_.

"Ilmarë! What the-"

Tiriel trailed off, staring ahead of her, to my left, speechless. She flushed a blazing scarlet red and turned away. The sight of me then took the color right back out of her face.

"L-Lady Tiriel! _Lady Ilmarë!_"

I blanched, trying to scramble to my feet again.

"Quick, Tiriel! We must flee! The skinny dippers are nearly upon us!"

It was so ridiculous a situation I could hardly credit it. It figures, then, that it only got better from there on. Tiriel proceeded to help me up and freak out on seeing my face, naked ellon struggled with shimmying into their breeches, the whole world was spinning, and someone had heard Tiriel shriek and sounded an alarm. Joy.

"Ilmarë, your head is fucking bleeding! _Bleeding_!"

"Lady Tiriel, let her not drift into slumber. I shall take her to Lord Elrond, just-"

There was a thump and I figured Glorfindel, in his hurry, had tripped over his own pants and fallen face flat on the ground. Normally, I would have laughed, but Tiriel was shouting nonsense at me and I felt the need to correct her.

"It's not bleeding! It's just-"

I touched my hand to it and drew it back to see it smeared in red.

"Oh. So it is. Well, 'T'is only a flesh wound,' right?"

I later learned that what I had apparently mistaken for a pool was actually a communal bath, and time of night I had hoped would guarantee Tiriel and I relative free reign of said pool for the enjoyment of screwing around was _actually_ the evening bathing shift for _ellyn_.

…Oops?

In Which We Learn Many Trivial Things/End.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Once Upon a Dream**

To my inestimable chagrin and utter mortification, Glorfindel eventually wrestled his clothes on and _insisted_ on carrying me to the Houses of Healing. Which was the terrible part, because people were running around thinking there had been some sort of attack (because they heard Tiriel scream) and they all _stopped_ and _stared_. Do you have any idea whatsoever how _embarrassing_ it is to be princess-lifted and carried around in Glorfindel's tunic while he shows off his muscles entirely shirtless and _gallantly_ comes to the rescue of a poor, wounded woman.

Oh, and Tiriel trailed behind us still in that Pokémon towel. It was _ridiculous_.

"You were very fortunate, lady, that it was only a shallow cut. There was a risk of much greater evil in your fall. I am very glad that you are well."

He was laughing at me. _Laughing_. With not simply considerable effort, I resisted the urge to strangle him with the soft bandage now wrapped around my head.

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel, for such a _kind_ sentiment."

He grinned cheekily at me, sitting on the visitor's chair.

"I see you have recovered sufficiently enough to once again direct that sharp tongue of yours to the art of sarcasm and flinging it in my direction."

I stuck my tongue out at him, irritable, and he sniggered louder. I glared at him before flopping back down onto my pillow, attempting to devote myself to ignoring his existence.

He sobered.

"Oh come now, Ilmarë, you can't be as mad at me as that! And for what? What did I do to cause you such offense? Attend to your health and safety, and that is all. Most ellith would-"

I groaned, throwing my hands up into the air and sitting upright.

"I am not an elleth. And I _told_ you I was fine, but you doubted me, and then, you forced your bloody tunic on me and _picked_ me _up_ and _carried_ me all through Imladris like we were on the cover of some trashy romance novel! I mean, seriously! You weren't even wearing a shirt, _I_ was apparently _not wearing pants_, and both of us were soaking wet!"

I sat back again and observed, a little mollified, that, "at least my head was gushing blood. That helps. But still!"

I covered my eyes with my arm, obscuring the light (and his face).

"That was a _nightmare_!"

He sat in silence and then there was a sudden clattering of…something. The chair, I presumed, although I couldn't be bothered lifting my arm to see what it was. And then, a thought struck me, and I peered curiously at him from beneath the crook of my elbow.

"You just referred to me by name."

He stiffened. (It _was_ the chair, by the way). I grinned.

"Awww, it's okay! I prefer it that way, anyway. 'Lady' is way too grand for someone like me. How 'bout this, you can call me Ilmarë as much as you like. But _I_ get to call you by _your_ name too, alright? Is this idea _amenable_ to you, Lord Glorfindel?"

He mimicked my expression and I realized, at that point, that he had been sincerely concerned that he had offended me.

"Yes, that idea is amenable to me, by your leave."

I nodded, pleased, and decided to go back to bed and have a rest. But he stopped me.

"Ilmarë, you must know I wouldn't stand for any elf to discredit you because of last night. The two of us know that nothing untoward happened and that your honor was in no way tarnished. For any elf to say otherwise is the foulest of slander and I will put a stop to it, as will Erestor, Lord Elrond, and his sons."

Is it sad that in my embarrassment, I hadn't even thought of my honor and all that tomfoolery? I'd really just been thinking of how _mortified_ I was in general, because, I mean, I'm heavy and he _princess_-lifted me, and he freaking carried me to _Elrond_ as if there was something seriously wrong with me. Which there absolutely wasn't. It was just a cut. You'd think someone had bashed my skull in with a mace the way people were acting.

"Er-Thank you, Glorfindel. It means a lot to me that you would…defend my honor like that."

He nodded, cheery now, and then, as an afterthought, I pulled off the tunic he had forced onto me and threw it at him.

"Thanks for letting me borrow that," I commented, even though I thought it had been entirely unnecessary and had been forced to accept it, which I did ungraciously anyway.

His face turned scarlet.

"Ilmarë-"

He threw it back at me, hitting me in the face with it, and turning away. I raised an eyebrow, throwing his tunic onto the chair next to me and snuggling into my covers.

"You've taken to using my name quickly, Lord Glorfindel."

He cleared his throat.

"I-I had already thought of you as such. But please, Ilmarë-"

Oh dear. He was struggling. And then it hit me.

"Glorfindel?"

"Yes?"

I paused, fighting back laughter.

"Did you feel the need to foist your tunic on me to, ah, preserve my modesty?"

He flinched as if I had drawn a sword and he had no defense. With an incredibly amused snort, I lay back and closed my eyes. If he wasn't going to answer, I was going to sleep.

By the time Glorfindel had composed himself, turning to at last give his answer, I was asleep. I _slept_ my near drowning experience right off. Presumably, at least. Really, I was swept away to my dreamland again. Which I was beginning to be kind of scared of. I mean, the last time I had a particularly vivid dream, I was literally _fading_.

But this time, I was in a strange, beautiful place entirely unlike the room I had been trapped in then. There were stars all around, and I was walking as if on the horizon, but there was no difference between water and air, and it was impossible to tell which were the stars and which the reflections.

So I walked among those lights for a time, until I came upon a great black door and heard a terrible rattling of chains. I looked in question to the man I had seen, but it was as if I were a phantom of some sorts, for he hadn't seen me, and my presence went entirely unnoticed by whatever beast resided behind the door and its sentinel alike.

So I wandered for a time more, until at last I grew weary and sat down, facing the gate in the distance, uneasy. It seemed as if no matter how far I left, how quickly I fled, it loomed over me, far, yet, but too near for comfort. Eventually, I grew tired and slept.

When I opened my eyes, I was in some other place, with a door to blackness behind me and a door to some bright and blinding place before me. I pondered these in the soft scarlet light I was bathed in, unsure of which to go through. And then a vision appeared before me, a specter of argent light, and I started.

"What the hell…?"

The light took the shape of a stunningly beautiful woman, who lifted a finger to her lips as if to tell me to hush and disappeared. I turned, out of some strange instinct and saw the ghost reform behind me.

"Hey, wait a minute-"

Before I could move away, the ghost's body phased into my own and after that, save for the nearing blaze of the blinding door, I knew no more.

_Ilmarë. Ilmarë, dear one. At last you have come. _

I struggled against some foreign shadow, seeking the voice that called me.

_Awaken._

My eyes snapped open and I was met with blinding light.

"What-Where am I?"

The woman of light was real now, with eyes that burned like the stars, and slender, votive hands. Her face was alight in a way that was almost unbearably beautiful, but the love that shone from the depths of her eyes eased the effect, and I gazed on her with wonder.

"Who are you?"

_I am Varda, dear one, and you are in the Valinor of the past_.

I looked about myself in confusion, seeing untouched loveliness in every direction. Valinor? Why was I here? Was I even allowed to be here? I was a child of the race of Men. I was struck dumb when I realized she had named herself Varda. The Queen of the Stars.

"My lady! I…Why have you brought me here?"

_In time, dear heart. In time._

I was running, then, not away, as if chased, but driven by some unnamable instinct. I bounded along the hills until I came in view of a city. With wild, unkempt hair and flying limbs, I raced down the hills and came upon a mound, and on that mound I saw the most beautiful thing eyes ever could see.

_Look, Ilmarë, look well! This sight was cheated you, so I give it to you now. _

Telperion and Laurelin! Argent-white boughs and golden leaves! The Two Trees of Valinor! A sudden mirth filled my chest, and a certain sorrow too, and I danced and laughed and cried and at last lay down to bask in the mingling of the lights as the day came to a close and the new one began. At last, I recalled myself, and I sat up, looking about at the canopy of the Two Trees above me and called for Varda.

"What is it that I see here? A memory of the sight of the Trees? What is the purpose of my coming here, lady? I have gazed upon true beauty and yet I am no wiser!"

_No memory, do I show you now, but your own! Cherish this sight while you can, dear one, for even I have not the power to make it endure. I kindle this last and dearest of stars with the light of the Trees, which none on Middle Earth still living have seen!_

"What star? The one Galadriel gave to Frodo?"

_No, dear one. You. You have named yourself Ilmarë, and Eru, in turn, has made you into her. _

"But I'm me! I'm not…someone else."

_You are yourself, dear heart, and in that so much more. It was no coincidence that you came to this world, when so many others might have come in your stead. Eru has willed it. _

I blinked.

"So I was meant to be here, to counter Loonzie? But she hasn't been doing anything, I don't think, except for irritating some ellyn when-"

_A terrible foe will come, and with him the hosts of a far greater darkness than you have ever seen. You have claimed your place, and Eru has blessed you. I have given you light, dear one. May it shine in you even in the darkest of places. _

Confused, I sat up.

"But wait, that doesn't-"

_Awaken_.

"-tell me anything!"

I shot up in bed, fighting against the grip on my shoulders like a wildcat, or some, smaller, less intimidating equivalent. I felt, suddenly, that Varda had shielded me from what dwelt behind the black gate, and with her presence gone from my side that darkness was a gaping maw snapping at my heels.

"Let me go! Let me _go_!"

"Ilmarë!"

I opened my eyes and met the stunned face of Glorfindel.

"Glorfy? What are you-"

I looked around myself, blinking. The Houses of Healing. I was in the Houses of Healing. Why was I there…? That's right, I'd cut my forehead, and everyone thought I'd broken my skull or something. Why was Glorfindel here? Well…he'd been there when I fell asleep. Perhaps it hadn't been that long since then? But it felt like an _age_-

I didn't move as Glorfindel's hands reached up and slowly unwound the bandage from my head, instead watching him with a child-like curiosity I normally wouldn't indulge in. The mildly stained linen fell to the floor like a silken ribbon caught on the breeze.

There was nothing on her head. What should have been, by right, a gruesomely forming scar, was gone. And as Ilmarë turned toward him in perfect trust, he saw the Light of Aman in her face. He stepped back, both in wonder and in wariness.

"I'll escort you to Lord Elrond. He'll…want to know you've awakened."

I nodded happily at him and slipped out of bed, hardly noting in my state of bemusement that he was forcing his tunic over my head again, slipping my arms through the sleeves and guiding me through the halls.

"Lord Glorfindel? What brings you to my quarters at this time of night?" came Lord Elrond's voice from an alcove behind where we stood in front of his door. Glorfindel turned, leading me still, and nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"My friend. I was hoping you would look to Lady Ilmarë's injury."

Raising an eyebrow in an expression that clearly stated skepticism, Elrond assented.

"If it you believe there is cause for worry?"

Glorfindel motioned me forward and I looked questioningly at Lord Elrond. He touched my 'grievous wound' and then glanced sharply at Glorfindel, looking again at my face.

"Hullo Lord Elrond. I hope you're well?"

His fingers left my forehead and he smiled.

"I'm very well, Lady Ilmarë. And it seems you are too. Lord Glorfindel will take you back to your room now, and I would ask that you rest so that you may join us for breakfast tomorrow."

I nodded happily, skipping over to Glorfindel.

"Okie dokie. Let's go, Glorfy!"

He took hold of my arm as if I were about to run off into the hills or something.

"By your leave, Lord Elrond."

"Come back, after, if you will. And bring Erestor."

Glorfindel stopped and answered him, causing me to look inquisitively between them.

"Are you having a midnight tea party? Like the Hatter's?"

They exchanged a certain sort of look I didn't really understand, but I knew instinctively that they were and I started bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet.

"I want to come! Can I? I don't really want to sleep. And I wanna see 'Restor and Glorfy!"

Glorfindel cleared his throat, and I meant to point and laugh at the pink on his cheeks, but I didn't get the chance because he put an arm around my shoulders and started taking me out of the room. I pouted.

"Does this mean I don't get to come to your tea party, Glorfy?" I asked, disconsolate. I must have sounded heartbroken or something because he set about to consoling me immediately.

"There is no tea party, Ilmarë. But if you go to sleep now, in the morning you can come and have tea with me and…'Restor and…"

Glorfindel trailed off. He wasn't sure, yet, what was going to happen about this latest of developments, and was disconcerted by the child-like way Ilmarë was acting. It was too innocent, too naïve to be _her_ as she normally was, and he was beginning to get the feeling she would be a danger to herself in the state she was in.

"In fact, if you go to sleep now," he started, resigning himself to an early rise, "We'll have a tea party in the morning with Erestor too, okay?"

I beamed.

"Okay! A tea party! But you have to pinky promise. Because everyone knows that if you break a pinky promise you'll die. Except I don't want you to die. But you wouldn't break a promise, you're the Chief of the House of the Golden Flower. You're an _honorable_ man."

He patted me on the head, not looking at me.

"I will…pinky promise, if you require it of me. How is the oath sworn?"

I lifted his hand and took hold of his pinky with my own.

"Like this, see? So do you pinky promise to have a tea party with me first thing tomorrow?"

He nodded, looking at our entwined fingers with great interest.

"I do."

Pausing, and looking at how dark my room seemed compared to the hallway we stood in, I kept hold of his finger, clasping both of our hands to my chest in immature fear.

"Glorfy, you…you wouldn't let that thing hurt me, would you?"

"…What thing?" he asked, watching our hands quietly.

"The monster," I said, pointing vaguely at the sky, "that lives behind the black door."

He stopped entirely now, glancing up at me with an immeasurable look.

"What black door, Ilmarë?"

I laughed.

"The one in my dream, silly. I was walking in a place of stars and I saw a great black door. Something very bad lives behind it, but I didn't know that when I saw it, because Varda protected me. I like her very much. She took me to Valinor for a day. I wish I could go back and play with Telperion and Laurelin some more, but she said she didn't have the power to bring me back anymore. I'll miss them. I'll miss Varda too, but I'll see her again, she told me so. She kindled me! Isn't that cool? Actually, I don't know what that means, but-"

"Ilmarë, why don't you go to bed now, and you can…tell me all about your dream tomorrow."

I nodded happily, letting him tuck me into my bed.

"Okay! I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, okay? That way 'Restor can hear it, too!"

Glorfindel bade her goodnight with a crease between his brows, and left to find Erestor, as Lord Elrond had bid him do. The change in Ilmarë was…unsettling, and her seemingly addled wits worried him. He was troubled by these thoughts for the rest of the evening.

Once Upon a Dream/End.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Oh, We're All Mad Here**

When I awoke the next morning, I felt fuzzy, disoriented, but extremely well-rested. Yawning, I slipped my feet out of the covers and onto the floor, realizing with sudden repulsion that I had slept in my swimsuit. And that tunic of Glorfindel's that I had been so sure I'd given back to him. Hmmm, there had to be a change of clothes around here somewhere…

I looked around, brow furrowed. Nothing. Well, I should have expected it, considering I wasn't in my room. I made a face.

I was in the Houses of Healing again. Why? Oh yeah, I'd cut my forehead.

"What the do you mean I can't 'see' her? There's not even anything wrong with her!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Tiriel, but I'm afraid Ilmarë is indisposed."

"What the hell does that mean?"

I stepped towards the door, my head tilted to the side in curiosity.

"It…it means she's sleeping, Lady Tiriel. Lord Elrond said she did lose a lot of blood and asked that I ensure she got a generous amount of sleep."

I'm not sleeping. What the hell, Glorfindel?

"Oh. Why didn't you just say so? Anyway, tell her I'll see her at dinner, okay? I have lessons today with Lord Elladan."

Hey, wait a second-

"I shall. I hope you fare well at your lessons."

"Thanks."

The door wouldn't open! It was locked, from the outside, apparently. I jiggled it in annoyance, so much so that I wouldn't have been surprised if the handle plopped off.

"Hey! Let me out!" I shouted, jiggling the bloody handle even more. Pissed at the lack of response and the idea of being stuck in my room all day, I aimed a kick at the door.

Of course, it being just my luck, it chose that moment to open.

"Il-"

Glorfindel yelped as my foot made contact with his shin. (It was definitely too late to recall my kick, which is legendary among my peers back home). I blanched.

"Sorry!"

He grunted, shutting the door behind him and herding me away from it. I pouted.

"Glorfindel, someone locked my door! I couldn't get out!"

He dropped a bundle of clothes into my hands, which I squealed over, and watched me hug them delightedly to my chest with a rather cheeky grin spreading across his face.

"So I'm Glorfindel again? I thought I was…what was it again? Ah, yes. _Glorfy_."

I stared at him in abject horror. _Glorfy_? I swear, I have _not_ said that aloud in the entirety of my time here. I _swear_.

My facial expression must have been hilarious, because he snorted and started laughing.

"Get dressed. I swore your 'pink-ee promise' oath that we would have a tea party this morning. Erestor should be along shortly, and you wouldn't want him to catch you dressed like _that_."

Glancing down at myself, I realized that if I wasn't presentably attired the second Erestor walked through that door, I was in for the lecture of a lifetime.

"Right, right. I'm going. Which means you should too." I 'suggested' sagely, motioning for the door. "Unless you want to stay and watch, but you'd have to be a total-"

"I'll take my leave, then," Glorfindel assured me hurriedly, his face red.

He was out the door in record time.

As Glorfindel made his way towards Erestor's chambers, he was consumed with thought of the previous night's discussion. Ilmarë, it had seemed, was not yet aware of the fact that her cut had disappeared, or that she was now, for lack of a better word, _radiant_ with some strange inner light. The latter was unsurprising, as all reflective surfaces had been removed from her room by Lord Elrond's order, and she was to be kept away from the sight of others until more could be discerned from the sudden change.

Their discussion had not been brief.

"Erestor, are you decent?" Glorfindel asked rather cheekily, knocking on his friend's door.

"Of course I'm decent," came the rather irritated drawl of the dark-haired elf as he swung open the door, his expression sardonic and clearly speaking volumes of what, precisely, he thought of this morning tea party business.

Glorfindel grinned.

"You'll want to let Ilmarë know that before you walk into her room. The poor girl has had nightmares of you in all your glory all night. She's _terrified_."

Flushing rather blotchily, Erestor all but shoved past the ridiculously tall blonde, closing his door behind him abruptly, huffing. Glorfindel's grin spread like a contagious illness.

"It was so unfortunate, that you were closest to the ladies when they appeared. I imagine they must have been _traumatized_."

Erestor glanced shrewdly at Glorfindel.

"I would imagine it so, but I would rather have a woman unable to sleep due to thoughts of my so-called '_glory'_ as you so _aptly_ put it, than be forever remembered by her for falling flat on my face in the mud with my breeches round my ankles, my bum bare to the moon."

The fabled balrog-slayer quit his teasing then, and attempted to salvage what little scraps of his dignity that were left in silence for the rest of the walk.

"Ilmarë…you're cross with me again."

With an acidity to my tone that was generally uncharacteristic, I answered him.

"_Oh_. You _noticed_."

Erestor glanced between Glorfindel and I, and snorted at the "hey, give me a hand here" look the Captain of the Guard gave him. Frustrated, the blonde ellon strode over to me, where I couldn't possibly avoid the sight of him.

"Of course I did. And it would be please me very much to know why."

I had half an urge to kick him in the shin. Again.

"I don't know…perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you _locked me in my room_."

He winced.

"Now, Ilmarë, I didn't-"

His tunic hit him in the face. Erestor laughed. I was mildly mollified by my aim. And then he tossed the tunic to the side and I remembered my wrath.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Lord Glorfindel. You didn't _what_? Mean to? Want to? Weak explanations such as those do nothing to lessen my anger. You _locked me in here_, as though I were some prisoner, and you had the gall to pretend it wasn't you when I asked about it!"

"Well-"

"Pretending you haven't the slightest idea how I came to be locked in here is the same as outright lying to my face, Lord Glorfindel, and I shan't abide by it."

"Ilmarë. I didn't lock you in on a _whim_. Lord Elrond-"

He seemed to be struggling with something and Erestor stepped in, diverting my rage with a deftly placed sweet. And when I say deftly placed, I mean he took a raspberry topped raspberry jam flaky pastry triangle and popped it in my mouth before I could interrupt.

I chewed (rather appeased by the offering) and swallowed. I would have proceeded to tear right into Glorfindel-who _locked me in the bloody room_-but was too distracted by the audacity of Erestor's solution and instead turned to him inquisitively.

"I didn't think you as bold as that, Lord Erestor." I pointed out, watching for his reaction.

He gave Glorfindel a look that said volumes and then turned back to me, embarrassed.

"I did not mean anything by it, and I apologize for any offense I might have-"

"No offense was taken, Lord Erestor. It was, I believe, one of the more agreeable methods I have yet encountered of forcibly shutting my trap."

I grinned as he looked a little faint and then decided that there was nothing else for it, so I might as well enjoy my bloody tea party and forgive Glorfy. It was hard for me to do, because he had locked me in my room, like I was a prisoner or something!

Briefly, looking about to the not inconsiderable luxury of my room, I amended that statement a little but was no less annoyed. Perhaps I wasn't your typical prisoner, but he locked me in. I don't know what sort of way that sort of thing could be misconstrued.

I was _raging_ when I found out it was him.

"Pass me one of those raspberry triangles, Glorfindel?"

He did. And then, hesitantly, as if I would bite his head off for asking me (perhaps not too off the mark?), he started, "Ilmarë?"

I took the offered pastry with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes?"

He paused for a minute. Then:

"Are you…that is, are you…"

I bit into my sweet with what might have been considered a vengeance. And chewed.

"You aren't…_mad_?"

Unblinking, with a very fixed look in my eye as I watched him, I swallowed. It's funny how even the simplest action can become somehow threatening and reduce a grown man to a nervous wreck. Because that's exactly what happened.

"I-Ilmarë, you _aren't_-"

"I'm not mad at you. At the moment. Rather, I shall give you an opportunity to explain why on earth _Lord Elrond_ would tell you to lock me in, why am I having a tea party…? And why are all the mirrors in my room gone? You and Erestor each had a strange look on your face when you came in this morning."

He winced.

"Ilmarë, Lord Elrond asked for their removal because, well…"

I listened with an almost strange feeling forming in the pit of my stomach as he explained that I had awoken last night, though I didn't seem to remember it, and that my supposed injury had been healed.

"And you spoke of a black door-Ilmarë?"

I stared in surprise at the broken tea cup in my hand.

"I-yes."

He exchanged looks with Erestor across the table and stood up, glancing and eventually tearing a bit of the table cloth off with his brutish strength and quickly pressing it to my hand, a grimace on his face. I was numb to it, though, my mind in another place.

A black door, a world of stars, and fleeing fleet-footed over hills 'til I came to the dwelling place of beauty. A presence outside of time, a gentle whisper, the mingling of light.

"Lady Ilmarë."

I jumped.

"Yes? I-Lord Erestor."

Turning his head to the door in an irritated manner, as if already planning to reprimand Glorfindel for taking so long, Erestor nodded his head, glancing briefly at my hand before resuming his frowning.

"He'll be back with Lord Elrond shortly."

Distracted, I mumbled an assent. A black gate. A world of stars. A gentle whisper. The mingling of light. There was something else…something…something coming. Something coming!

That's what it was!

I was interrupted by Lord Elrond's entrance, with Glorfindel in tow. Or, perhaps, the other way around. Erestor acknowledged them with an incline of his head, and I waved.

"Good morning, Lord Elrond."

He raised an eyebrow at me (in his ridiculously exaggerated way) and picked up my hand, pulling off the ruined piece of tablecloth I was going to make sure Glorfindel paid for, if necessary, and inspected the mass of red.

"Good? With a start to it such as you have enjoyed, I should think there are other, more colorful words you might apply to its description."

I cracked a grin.

"Perhaps. But any words I might have used in that instance to describe more accurately the morning would have been of colors you'd have never seen or even imagined. Like fluorescent glitter rainbow. Or black light violet."

Glorfindel's expression became one of a rather inquisitive and yet disapproving nature as he regarded me.

"Is that so?"

My smile dimmed a little and I looked upon him with less amiability than I had Elrond. And then I realized, _Lord Elrond _was the one who had ordered him to lock me up in the first place! My fury blazed again to life, and I turned in my seat.

"Lord Elrond, I do hope that you will explain to me why it is you ordered Lord Glorfindel to _lock me in my room_ this morning?"

The sovereign lord of Imladris looked like he was about to laugh.

"I'm afraid, Lady Ilmarë, that I did no such thing."

Oh, Glorfy was in _trouble_.

"Is _that_ so?"

The blonde looked at his liege lord in irritation.

"Lord Elrond, you asked that I ensure that Lady Ilmarë rested undisturbed-and that I was to, in pursuit of that aim, keep her out of the sight of others and keep the knowledge of her changed face from her for as long as I could."

Talk about foot-in-mouth disease. I stood up abruptly, both hands on the table as I pointed a very sharp and lingering stare at Glorfindel's face.

"What do you mean, '_changed face_?' That, I'm afraid to say, doesn't sound much like '_healed injury_.' It sounds rather dangerously more like '_changed face_.'"

I don't know what it was that I felt when I was told that my face was doing something akin to _glowing_, but it wasn't joy, reverence, or anything like that. It wasn't, though, unadulterated rage either. I simply stared, for the longest time, into my reflection.

And thought that I was too rapidly becoming someone else.

"How long will I have to stay in my room?" I asked, sitting quietly with my hands folded in my lap, not looking up at Glorfindel or Erestor, my dear, dear (and in Glorfy's case, recently fully pardoned) friends. Lord Elrond looked at me gravely.

"I have not the authority to make such a decision, Lady Ilmarë. I had hoped you might consent to staying out of sight until it becomes clear what has happened, but it is your choice, and no one," he said, looking rather critically and amused all at once at Glorfy, "can make that decision for you. You are not a prisoner here."

I groaned.

"So I'm going to be shut in for a while, huh? Can Tiriel visit me?"

Elrond inclined his head in mild confirmation.

"She may, yes. I take it, then, that you are agreeing to keep out of sight until this change is better understood?"

Wearily, more wearily than any person my age should ever nod, I did.

"Yes. I presume you'll be working with Gal-Lady Galadriel and perhaps, if he is available, Gandalf? How long do you _think_ it will be, anyway?"

He looked at me disapprovingly and didn't answer my first question.

"It could be a few weeks. It could be months. I would not ask you, were our investigation to drag on for so long, to remain isolated for as long as that. I do not know, precisely."

Drumming my fingers on the desk, I assented.

"I can live with that. Will…will I have to cancel my lessons?"

He laughed and Glorfindel muttered something about me being the only living creature who could possibly be insane enough to _want _to attend Erestor's lessons. I repudiated his ignorance with my left shoe and then let Erestor, who was barely containing his righteous fury at the thought of cancelled lessons, tear right into him.

"Of course! Lady Ilmarë is a woman of learning, Glorfindel, not a barbarian such as yourself."

He ended that statement with a snooty sniff that would have done even Mr. Darcy's evil bitch of an aunt from _Pride and Prejudice_ proud. Ah, it's so fun to watch those two insult each other. It's all in good fun and whatnot, and they really have great respect for each other, but, you know. It is how it is, and the two of them are both _very_ competitive.

Glorfindel averted narrowed eyes.

"At least I'm a barbarian who managed to beat a scholar at his own game."

Erestor turned scarlet.

"You only beat me because the last question was about Gondolin!"

A catty grin spread its way across Glorfindel's sculpted features as he practically purred, "You didn't expect me to get all the other ones right though, did you?"

Erestor scowled seemingly muttering something very rude and inappropriate.

"Says the brute who expected me to be useless with a sword in my hand. I'm sorry, it seems to have escaped my mind…who was it that won that duel, again?"

It was Glorfindel's turn to flush and scowl.

Oh, We're All Mad Here/End.


End file.
